


Rise / Reunite [ON HIATUS]

by CrescentMoogle



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ASL, Also yes I'm British, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Foster Care, Frisk And Reader Are Related, Frisk is They/Them, I will use strange UK words ok, Like really slow, Other, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is asexual, Resets, Rivalry, Sans is not okay, Selectively Mute Frisk, Slow Burn, Soul Sharing, past trauma, qpr, reader is they/them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentMoogle/pseuds/CrescentMoogle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk finally makes it to the surface. No more resets, right? Right.</p><p>Static builds in the back of your mind, and shadows coalesce. When Frisk left, they brought something else with them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue I - The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> After the prologue, this fanfiction is a second-person, original character story. Insert your name in the ______. For the prologue, use the same name. Enjoy!

     They hated them. False parents, fake family. Frisk heard what they said in hushed whispers, how it was time for them to move on to a new home. They weren't parents. None of them. They didn't stick around long enough to even be friends. They'd thought that maybe this time the foster carers would keep them. It felt almost comfortable here, and the carers let ________ babysit whenever they liked. But now these people were giving Frisk away.  
     Frisk was so tired of the instability. They pushed up from their spying perch on the top step and padded lightly to their room. It was too easy to leave. Nothing they had in this house mattered, aside from the striped jumper and sturdy old boots. The jumper was second-hand, meant for an adult, and Frisk loved how it fell down past their hands and rolled up comfortingly around their neck. The boots were somewhat too big as well, and Frisk made sure to pull on extra socks to pad them out. Perfect for adventuring.  
     It was raining when they left, and it felt good, washing away frustration and betrayal along with any care they might have had for what they left behind. They knew where they were going for the first fifteen minutes or so - into the woods, through that little gap in the garden fence. From there, it was freedom, and whatever caught their eye. They wandered for a really long time. Towards the evening they took stock of their surroundings and felt a pride for their exploring skills burning strong in their chest. They had made it to the smaller of the two mountains - Mt. Ebott. They could see the stark, blueish silhouette of Ebott's twin across the valley, and the lights of the city already glowing further away. It wasn't raining any longer, and the sunset glistened perfectly across the water of the sea, completing the scene.  
     Out here in the atmospheric dusk, they were filled with a mad desire to live like an orphan from a fairytale. Making friends with magical woodland creatures and living in a secret cave. So the obvious next move was to find a suitable cave. It didn't take long to find a perfect little place. A circular stone doorway, inviting, with roots layering the floor into a natural carpet. It felt too good to be true, at the time. In hindsight, they should have checked properly before skipping into their new refuge. The roots snagged them at around the same time that they saw the pit.

~✿~ 

     Waking from the fall stopped hurting after the first few times. They always expected to find their limbs broken, or a root or stalagmite driven through them from their hellish descent. But as usual, they were totally uninjured, saved by the cradle of flowers that seemed to rise to meet them. This was the eighth time... or was it the ninth? It was hard to recall through the misty déjà vu that tried to overcome them, like waking from a dream. They stretched out in the flowers and fought their own complaining mind in its attempts to forget everything from before time skipped back.  
     They didn't hate the repetition. They kept failing of course, accidentally saying something wrong or getting frustrated when they couldn't dodge fast enough for the thousandth time. Or there were the times they couldn't do anything at all. When their body disobeyed and made them watch their friends massacred over and over. But to their relief, Undyne or Sans always proved too powerful even for the Other. Too brave, too determined. So back to the beginning it was.  
     They didn't remember being afraid even the first time they awoke to the gold and purple gloom of the flower cave. By now, even the apprehension of facing Flowey, and having to wait for Toriel to save them again, didn't phase them. They let Flowey hit them this time, since making him upset didn't feel right. Frisk felt like they understood him better by this point. Toriel appeared on perfect schedule, and Frisk followed every familiar detail of her teachings, down to the way her violet eyes widened cheerily when Frisk completed her simple tasks.  
     Leaving her house felt like it came too quickly, and Frisk was very sorry. The instance before had been the worst so far, the Other making it all the way to the golden hallway without a struggle, playing dumb and innocent until the last second against everyone. Frisk was sure it was learning. They weren't comfortable thinking that with each reset, the Other became more likely to be the one to win. This had to be the last time.  
     The snow cooled their feet through the leather boots and crunched soothingly. They picked up 'their' stick, the one that was always there on the path, and headed to the silly gate bridge with anticipation. Sans and Papyrus would always be their favourite people, even after they left the Underground. Leaving wasn't a question - they knew that one of these times they would do it, finally.  
     They faced the wooden uprights of the gate and felt their pulse quicken happily at the falsely menacing footsteps approaching from behind them. Even after so many times, the same conversations were funny and filled Frisk with warmth.  
     "Human..." came the dark quiet tone. It almost scared them. Sometimes they were sure Sans remembered. Unlike the others, he looked increasingly tired after each of the Other's resets.  
     Yes. They were sure this time, as they turned to meet his eyes. Sans always looked tired, but he carried his shoulders lower now, and his other hand was balled into a fist as if he was waiting for Frisk to strike. The grin plastered onto his skull brightened noticeably when he recognised that this was the real Frisk this time. Frisk wanted to say sorry, ask if Sans understood, ask for help even, but it felt sickeningly wrong to break the pattern that by this point was second nature.

     Spending time solving Papyrus' puzzles was always worth an extra few hours of enjoyment. Frisk had established that no matter how long they stayed in Snowdin or the surrounding land, Undyne always caught them just the same way. So they attempted to eat frozen spaghetti and laughed at all of Sans' jokes. They hung out at the skeleton brothers' house for longer than usual too.  
     Something about the brothers' quirks sent a pang of nostalgia through Frisk. Papyrus' spaghetti obsession, his enthusiasm, the puns, the way that Sans always seemed to be comfortably close by, keeping an eye on everything. It did feel like home... but it reminded Frisk of someone else too. They pushed down the strange guilt they felt and carried on through the town, talking to everyone.  
     One thing about the monster community was that same rules that applied above ground didn't apply here. The monsters almost never struggled to understand Frisk's sign language. It felt like they hardly had to sign to be understood. Everyone's eagerness to hear what Frisk had to say encouraged them to use their little, unpracticed voice to sing a little, and to say the names of their friends. They became braver. By this run, they considered themselves very animated, and brave with their limited capacity for speech. They never worried that the people they spoke to would dismiss them into silence. They pushed on, brimming with determination.

     As they walked past Sans with his telescope, they took note of the absence of a grey door on the passage wall. _Hm. I guess the Tall Man isn't home this time._ For some reason, it didn't feel to Frisk like that was a problem...

~✿~

     This was the one. They could feel it by the time they escaped Undyne. They wouldn't reset again. They would make it all the way through. That feeling only built as they made their way. Muffet giggled happily as they voraciously ate a spider donut in front of her, ending the web climbing early. Even the dance-off with Mettaton went perfectly. Frisk didn't miss a beat. The robot shut down - out of batteries. Not much left to do now.  
     They met Sans in the golden antechamber. The back of their neck prickled and there was a tug at their sternum as he scanned their soul and found it pure. He seemed surprised. Frisk knew it was because of the previous run. But the Other never made it past Sans. Frisk wanted to ask Sans if he remembered, but couldn't find their voice. They didn't move for a long time after Sans left the corridor. They had only got this far once before.

     Walking to meet Asgore at the barrier felt like wading through honey. Maybe it was just the honeyed light in the throne room? They stepped up to meet him. Indicated that they were ready. Their vision blurred and blackened, and there was the sickening tug of their soul being pulled forth. Only Asgore was visible, and at his chest, the translucent mercury shape of his soul. The fight wasn't hard, really. They had given up last time after repeated deaths, solidly refusing to hurt Asgore. By now, dodging was simple. It was fighting back that was hard. They knew there wasn't any other choice. They only had to strike with their stick against Asgore's soul for a few rounds, they told themselves. Enough to make him listen. They wished that they could die for good and let the monsters go free. _I'm sorry. Don't want to hurt you._

     The bottom dropped out of their stomach when the next hit struck true, and Asgore's life force drained down to a sliver of orange-tinted light in the shimmering core of his soul. They hadn't meant to go so far. They didn't even have the chance to react to the killing seeds as they surrounded the king. He released a faint whimper of betrayal and surprise, and then there was only dust. Frisk tried to do something, force a reset, get out of this room, stop Flowey. There was a distorted mechanical noise and they were in limbo. This hadn't happened before. _Why would he do that? Why can't I go back?!_ They tried to do anything at all, their senses dampened to numbness by the void. Then there was just Flowey. The fear of losing the power to reset clung to their throat.  
     The struggle through barbed roots and sharpened seeds to reach out to the six souls was a blurred mess. They did it, somehow. They felt the resonance of the other children and called out with their own soul. The air pulsed, and the souls chose the side of mercy over Flowey's torment. Not knowing what was coming next felt like being dropped into ice water.  
     Still, Flowey could not be killed. _Mercy. Mercy. Mercy._ Frisk crossed their arms over their chest, indicating that they would not fight. Not after Asgore... Flowey ran, frustrated, and then Frisk was left alone. They crossed through the barrier. Going back was pointless now. They couldn't waste the soul Asgore gave. How could they go back to the others after what they had done? They looked out at the sunrise and sobbed. Then they screamed. Their tiny voice cracked with the effort. This felt wrong. It wasn't meant to go like this.  
     Eventually they began to tread heavily down the ridge. Sickness sat like a stone in their stomach. They went back to their foster parents. Human life resumed slowly, as if nothing had happened in the past however long they had been gone. It felt like years. Happy years. The only one who really cared for their return was ________. But there was nothing worse than being apart from Frisk's monster family. They felt like more of an outsider here now than they ever had. They couldn't tell anyone what had happened, even though lots of different adults asked them.

     Many times they made the trip back to the mountain, and stood looking at the shimmer of the barrier. They tried to communicate to someone on the other side that they were there. Sometimes they threw stones. They didn't feel like they deserved to get back in. It was their fault, after all.


	2. Prologue II - The Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Frisk tries again.

     The phone rang. They had been sitting dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, with their back to the barrier, legs dangling in open space over the rocks. Sans' voice crackled through the handset. He sounded proud, but conflicted and more than a little bitter, but he said he wanted them to stay hopeful. Papyrus and Undyne argued over the phone a while, and everything they said made the pull in Frisk's chest stronger. Sans hung up. Frisk stood and faced the barrier like it was the final boss. In a way, it was. They stepped back through.  
     Flowey met them there, in the dark space between the exit and the throne room. He for the first time said something that Frisk agreed with. That this wasn't the ending they wanted and that they could get a better one. Flowey even gave Frisk some advice. They reset, to just before the fight with Asgore. _Just this one more time_. Back through the capital, to check on things they might have missed. They moved painfully slowly, dodging from save point to glimmering golden save point.  
     On their way back, Undyne rang. Not really knowing what else they might have missed, they went back to Papyrus' house. They felt like they were walking home. They ran an errand for Undyne, took Alphys her letter. Fixed problems and made people happy.  
     They had never expected to find... this. They were stood in the cool darkness of the laboratory. The back of their neck prickled as they padded as quietly as possible through the rooms. They only now began to truly understand. How after all this time could they have missed so much? _Nobody here?_ They didn't feel alone, though.  
     They weren't alone. The amalgamates filled Frisk with dread, until a ripple of familiarity sparked. They were just like the other monsters but... something happened to them. Alphys, trying to fix everything, had made them like this. Frisk took in new information with an enthusiasm they had all but forgotten. They weren't afraid of this dark labyrinth anymore. They boldly explored through derelict corridors and past eerie machinery.  
     They watched all the old recordings they found, listening to Flowey's (?) voice as he played with the Other... and pleaded. They finally knew most of the truth about Flowey, and about the Other - Chara. It was beginning to fall into place. With the same resolute certainty they had felt before, they knew that this time, it was going to be okay.

     They stepped into the next room, unfazed by the chilly fog that filled it. There was a computerised static in the background, a wavering hum. Machines must be causing the fog. They felt around for a switch all the way along the walls. _Nothing? Next room then. Wait, what-...?_ Their outstretched hands had found something that hadn't been there on the way. Fabric? Touching it made their hands tingle. Their eyes wouldn't focus on anything, even this close to it. It was pitch black. The distorted hum was louder. Frisk reached up. It was something in the shape of a man. Then, it was gone. It took the noise with it. The prickling silence it left behind was familiar. _Tall Man._ They couldn't find any other sign of it, so they shrugged and continued. They took it slow, not wanting to miss anything as the mysteries seemed to continue to unfold.  
     The phone rang on the way out to the elevator.

~✿~

     Frisk was returned to the barrier. _Didn't want to do it again._ Turns out they didn't have to. Toriel came to the rescue. And then Undyne, and Alphys, followed by Papyrus, Sans, and... Flowey. Frisk was used to betrayal what with all the changing homes, so they should have expected it, really. It didn't make their eyes sting any less.  
     Not Flowey. Asriel! It all made sense, the final few puzzle pieces neatly clicking into their spaces. Frisk knew now. Not like before, when they made themselves believe they were going to be okay. They knew now that there was no way they could lose. It just wasn't possible, they could feel the others hoping along with them.  
     They were right, this time. Asriel pleaded and Frisk struggled, but in the end they made it. Letting go of Asriel's shaking shoulders felt like sentencing him to death. In a way it was. Nobody else remembered, as far as Frisk could tell. It wasn't like they could speak to anyone about it. So they didn't cry. At least not until they made it all the way back through the Underground - to the first cave. Here, in the gloom, they thought there was nobody to see them sob with Asriel in the petals. _I'll come back. Promise._ It didn't feel fair that anyone should be left behind.

     They left the chamber feeling lightheaded. _Tired now._ They actually looked forward to getting to the surface this time, with their real family. They took the boat back to the other side of the Underground. Their limbs were tingling. Maybe the fatigue they should have felt throughout the ordeal was finally catching up to them?  
     "Tra la la." warbled the River Person. "Beware of the man who came from the other world." Frisk smiled, too tired for any more riddles today. Their ears were ringing. They stepped from the boat at the Hotland stop, and returned to meet the others at the barrier. Without the thrum of the barrier, they noticed there was an odd background noise as they walked the final hallway, computerised and unnerving. They sped up.  
     They took a breath as they stepped through. They took in the dawn, welcoming the sunlight on their face, taking in the way the water caught the light. The others were so happy. Undyne's grin was so large it looked like it might hurt her cheeks. Even Sans' smile looked genuine, and when he explained to his brother about the sun, his voice was reverent and full of warmth. Frisk had never heard it like that before.  
     They looked out over the valley at the city. Somewhere there, though they couldn't see it, was their house. Not their home though. They took Toriel's hand, knowing where they would go now. They felt Toriel turn to them.  
     "Frisk... You came from this world, right...? So you must have a place to return to, do you not? What will you do now?" She was trying to appear positive, but her brow furrowed involuntarily. Frisk didn't even think on the question of what going with her would entail. They held her hand tighter, and signed with the other that they would stay with her.

     As the pair followed the others down the hill, Frisk turned. The Tall Man was standing hardly visible in the shadows at the exit. He smiled, in his funny way. Frisk smiled too, and subtly reached out a hand to ask him to follow.


	3. Adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you watch the news.

     Observe; the lone human eats colourless, tasteless food. They stare out through the glass at other humans as they go about their own early-morning quests. They guess at the personal lives of these individuals, even though it is pointless. They persevere.  
     You watch your own actions with a documentary-style commentary playing in your mind. You are living, but you watch in third person, as though detached. You tear your eyes from the window to look at the calendar. Tuesday. Two months since your life fell into monochrome. Only a little while until you turn 25. Sigh. You stand from your musings, mentally preparing yourself for work. On the way out, you flick on the timers on the many string lights dotted around your tiny bungalow, to welcome you on your arrival home. You step out of your own private limbo into the outside world.  
     As you leave, you turn back to look at the little cuboid you live in. It's grey and boring from the outside, but inside it is meticulously, lovingly decorated. There was a time when you wanted this place to be a sanctuary. By now, with how much you're working, you could easily upgrade from the little box. But with just you living here, there isn't really much reason to. You turn back, walking on towards town. The bite of the Autumn morning air doesn't reach you.  
     Yet another day of work. You keep a tight work schedule after everything that has happened, to 'keep yourself busy', as they say is so healthy for those in situations of discomfort. Today is one of your average days, ten hours of work at a high-end hotel. There was a time you recall when you enjoyed your work there. After all, it involves making people happy. Now it's just one of the things that fills the space. The other distractions include two more jobs, one at a bar in the evenings and at weekends, and one at a florists, which is the only one that brings you any enjoyment. Your hobbies include collecting string lights, walking in stormy weather and screaming at the sky, and eating Italian food like its the end of the world.  
     Work passes in a glazed monotony. The only event is a customer ranting about the towels for some reason, but you fail to rise to it, to their frustration. You just fetch more towels, smiling as sweetly as candied cyanide. Nobody gets a rise out of you. There isn't any reason to care about things like this, so why get angry? The other staff will often call on you to deal with difficult customers. You are very good at it. All it takes is unfathomable patience and maybe a joke or two to calm the mood.

     You return home to the friendly glimmer of the string lights in white, blue, red and purple. It might not be much, but at least you take some satisfaction in the little things. You kept the house nice for when Frisk came to stay before, but now you just do it out of habit. You make your way to the living room and pick up the remote before choosing one of many soft places to sit. An oversized blue beanbag is today's resting place. You flick through channels and realise that all the news programmes seem to be showing the same story. _Huh. Must be something big._ You stop on one that looks more sensible and it takes you a moment to comprehend that there are... creatures on screen? _What are those? Is that a skeleton? What the heck is going on?_ The area had a lot of folklore about monsters living in the extensive cave system outside of the city, but that was a story, like the Loch Ness Monster or Sasquatch. Right?  
     Everyone certainly seems to be treating it like it's real. It is actually happening. They are interviewing a lanky skeleton in armour. He bounces like an excitable puppy and trips over his words as he explains in excitement that a human released the monsters from their underground prison. He calls out in a dramatic way for the 'human'. An eight foot tall, white, bipedal goat bustles through the crowd of nervous reporters, hand in hand with... a trapdoor opens in your chest and your heart drops out and bounces across the floor. It's Frisk. It's your Frisk.

~✿~

     Since yesterday, things have been thrown into sharp focus. Shoved out of the shadows into harsh sunlight. Everything feels painfully slow. You stayed up last night despite your early hotel shift. You finish at midday today, and then you will have a long while before you head to your bar job. Today is just the most frustrating day. You snap at a complaining customer in the hotel, breaking your perfect track record in front of several members of staff. You don't care, obviously.  
     You head straight to the public political meeting of the monsters afterwards. You have to see them. Specifically Frisk. Silly of you to think that you could get close enough to talk to them, though. The building is packed, reporters and political figures vying to get their say in, and crazed civilians taking photographs and shouting for attention. It sounds as though they are trying to work out monster rights. It's madness.  
     After about two hours of trying to get to the front, you make it close enough to see the panel of monsters. In the middle, calm as anything and sitting behind a plaque labelled 'Ambassador', is Frisk. They are signing fast and smiling resolutely as if this was what they were made for. The skeleton from before is translating for those who can't understand Frisk's communication, in a booming voice. It doesn't strike you as odd for some reason, that the skeleton would understand them. Around them is an assortment of fantastical beings. Your people-watching instincts kick in.  
     Beside Frisk, sitting with perfect posture, is the tall goat person. There's another one supposedly of the same species, further down the table, looking very uncomfortable with the attention they are receiving. Between them, apparently sleeping, is another, smaller skeleton. Beside the taller skeleton, shouting a response to a reporter over the noise, is an aquatic-looking redheaded woman. A metallic person lounges theatrically on the desk to her side, crooning into a microphone in a resonating tone, looking like this is their element. Sat behind the two of them is a small yellow dinosaur, who from their body language is hating every second.  
     As much as you try, you can't get Frisk's attention, since it's impossible to get close with all this going on. Eventually you decide to wait until things have died down. Your throat is tight. You don't feel any better from being in proximity to the returned child. They aren't with you. They don't even know you're here. When things do die down, the monsters are ferried out like celebrities to a car. There is nothing you can do. You try to locate someone who can speak to you.  
     A lawyer for the monsters that you manage to find tells you that Frisk's legal guardians have already been in touch, and the monsters have been allowed to take guardianship of Frisk. Due to the lack of standing laws around monsters, there's nothing anyone can do. In order to speak with Frisk, you will need to contact the monsters directly. However, the lawyer can't give you their contact details for security reasons. 

     You retire home, bitter but not defeated. You manage to get through your second work shift whilst scheming how to get around the situation. You have become very used to focussing on work to take your mind off things. You plan to contact Frisk's foster parents tomorrow, to ask them why they think it's reasonable to just give up their child after they had been missing for two months. You are well aware that you have no legal claim to Frisk even from a human adoption standpoint. You have been deemed unfit to care for them. But they are your child.  
     As much as you try, things will never be the same again. Thinking about Frisk, you recall how happy they looked. How endearing that loud skeleton was. How useless you would be to them as a parent. Perhaps this is how it should be?  
     No. How could you even think that. You will not be kept from your child.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out a day early because I got excited. Updates weekly on Fridays!
> 
> Thankyou for reading! I now have a blog at rise-reunite.tumblr.com


	4. Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the monsters settle in.

     Today you attempt to appeal to the hearts of Frisk's foster carers. You sit in a spare office of the hotel on your lunch break to make the call. You have all your points written out in advance.

     "They were gone for two months, don't you want to see them? Aren't you worried about them staying with monsters that we know nothing about?" You maintain your composure throughout the debate, even after it's clear that they want no part in the situation. You don't let your voice waver. They were intending to find a new home for Frisk anyway. To you, it proves how much (or how little) they really cared for your child. "Foster carers? Foster careless more like." You hang up with that. It wasn't particularly tactful, but you don't intend to speak to them again anyway.  
     You stay in the office until the end of your break and stare through the window, not really seeing the hotel courtyard as you evaluate the conversation you just had. As you go over your words to check your methods of persuasion were up to scratch, something gives you an idea. We know nothing about these monsters. Your stomach tenses with anticipation at the new focus. Time to put your investigative skills to use.

     After work, you stop in town rather than walking straight home. The monsters milling about exploring their surroundings in small groups are easily noticeable as they draw attention from every human passerby. There is a colourful stall at this end of the high street, where a pale blue-furred creature is selling ice cream despite it being late autumn. Obviously he is getting plenty of business from excitable young humans as they head home from school. This is as good a subject as any that a researcher might use, you think.  
     When you reach the front of the queue, the vendor gives you a positively glowing smile as though this is the best day of his life. You buy something called a Nice Cream and stand to one side, still close to the stall. The wrapper has text on it, apparently written by hand with a marker. It says 'Have a wonderful day!'. You can't help but smile despite your reservations about the sudden appearance of these creatures.  
     You eat the strange ice cream - that is almost more like cold cotton candy in texture - slowly whilst waiting for the congregation of human kids to die down. When it does, you put your curiosity to use. You wander up to the stall with added nonchalance.  
     "Thank you for the ice cream. Business going well here?" You wave a hand at the street. The vendor has an expression that is a combination of surprise and pure gratitude as he replies.  
     "Thank you for buying! It's going better than ever since we got to the surface. Some of the humans are kinda mean though." You pull a face of agreement at that.  
     "Too right they are. I hope they aren't giving you too much trouble?" Be kind, you thought. Being kind is always the solution. He is clearly shocked at you showing concern rather than getting defensive about your species.  
     "No need to worry about me! My business is finally taking off, and that's all that matters!" He has so much enthusiasm. You feel it rubbing off on you.  
     "I wish you the best of luck. " As an afterthought, you add, "By the way, your fur is a beautiful shade of blue." The creature blushes as you wander off. Not the most successful research, you think, but you did enjoy the Nice Cream. What you did learn is that there is something rather captivating about the monsters, and you can't wait to meet more. Maybe that's how Frisk feels, too.

~✿~

      Now it's Friday, and you have a shift at the florists. You are getting lost in the scents of earth and floral fragrance, mingling into a pleasant olfactory rainbow while you match a ribbon to a delicate bouquet in white and blue. The bell chimes, politely disturbing your trance. You look up into the eyes of... a cat? He looks like a ginger tom.

     "I need flowers." He appears to be very uncomfortable. You take in his badly-tailored, creased suit and the cloying odour of cigarette smoke lingering above the scent of the store. Your brain lists its primary assessment of the feline; overworked and stressed, probably hates his job. You might as well make his day a little easier.  
     "What kind of flowers would you like? Are they for a friend?" You apply a smile encouragingly.  
     "Just. Flowers, I don't know. For my boss. He says he needs them for the table in his new house. I don't think he cares as long as they're extravagant." He shrugs in a very habitual way. You grin.  
     "I'm sure I can do that. Any specific colour?" You step over to the display with an assortment of dahlias and other bright flowers. You have some idea of what kind of person his boss might be.  
     "I don't know, buddy. Probably pink or red. He wears pink. Anything that just shouts 'I'm so fabulous, look at me!'" You nod whilst trying to disguise your grin, picking out a variety of large lacy blooms in colours varying from deep magenta to pale pink. You select some wispy white accompanying flowers and pull them together into a bouquet at the desk, finishing them with a white ribbon that has a pink spiral pattern on it. You pull up the price on the till and, in an act of kindness due to the cat's relatable position, you deduct a little from the value. He raises a furry brow.  
     "Really? Hey, thanks buddy. I appreciate it." He sounds sarcastic but you can tell that he really is grateful from his expression. He pays, leaving with another mumbled thanks.  
     Research notes gained so far: Just like anyone else, monsters have their quirks and flaws, but they are all good at heart as far as you can detect. The worst of the monsters are probably still better than the average human.

~✿~

     By the end of Monday, monster businesses are starting to show up all over town. You take a walk through the town centre, inspecting them. Among them is an unavoidably enticing bakery, the window frames of which are being painted purple by a small white cat. Or is it a dog? You can't be sure, but it shouts an explosive greeting to you as you approach, jumping about a foot in the air and dropping its paintbrush. You greet it in return and ask if the store is open, trying not to laugh at its vibrating enthusiasm. The creature blurts out something that takes you a moment to decipher as being "Ya ya, open for business!" You thank the ball of energetic fluff and step inside to a warm atmosphere and the smell of fresh dough and icing sugar. The sight of the busy interior takes your breath away.  
     The place is stunningly decorated for a shop that just opened. Lilac bunting hangs on the dark purple walls, and displays of outrageously appetising cakes and pastries sit on little round tables covered with lacy tablecloths. Something gossamer and silvery stretches its way across the ceiling as if the clouds became trapped indoors. It appears to you how the inside of a ginger bread house would look; the kind of place that enchanted children might get lost in, never to return. It's like pastel Halloween in here. There are several monsters around, applying finishing touches to the displays.  
     Behind the counter is a woman, or something similar. She has six arms and lavender skin, and five wine red eyes. She is using one pair of arms to tie the strings of an apron at her back, one pair to fix a bow in her hair, and the third pair to pour a cup of purple tea. You are entranced. A spider? While she multitasks, she directs her assistants in a lilting voice.  
     It would appear that the spider-proprietress had all her friends pull together to help set up. A tray of cupcakes waddles past you, confusing you totally until it becomes apparent that a small yellow dinosaur is carrying it upon their head, as they have no visible arms. A scaled mermaid-like monster is swaying nearby, in her own little world as she counts raspberry tartlets out onto a filigreed stand and sings the numbers aloud. Another cat-dog identical to the one outside is coordinating what appears to be - you realise with a start - a swarm of large spiders. That doesn't particularly unsettle you. Even if you were afraid of spiders before, by this point nothing is as it seems.  
     A skeleton in a blue hoodie comes out of the kitchen at the back of the store, wielding a baking tray full of piping hot breaded products. It occurs to you that he might be the same one you saw at the congregation last week. He notices you standing there and locks eyes with you a moment. It feels like he's evaluating you, like you do so often with your people watching. The smile he sends your way is more unnerving than it is friendly, but he is a skeleton, after all. The spider woman notices you at the same moment though, so you don't have much time to contemplate it. Her giggle as she greets you is tinkling and high-pitched.  
     "Well look at that, our first human customer. And aren't you just scrumptious? How can I help you, sweetie?" Her tone is flirtatious with a hint of some underlying threat. She makes you feel like prey and gives you the urge to buy something to appease her. You had just intended to look around, but her approach changes your mind.  
     "Can I have one of those cupcakes, please?" You indicate a cupcake with white icing and little sugar spiders on it. She laughs by way of an answer and flashes a smile that has very sharp teeth. You notice in your peripheral vision that the skeleton who had been eyeing the exchange with some level of hostility has retreated into the back room. Right. This pair of creatures might be the first ones to add to your list of Monsters Who May Be Untrustworthy.  
     The arachnid puts your cake into a little box and takes your money with a spare hand. _Huh. Wish I could do that_. You thank her, and take one more long glance around the bakery. You realise that she is holding out a hand for you. You take it, and your mind performs its usual act of registering every detail. Wiry but elegant fingers, cold skin like velvet.  
     "Muffet. A pleasure to meet you dearie." She's giving you that hungry smile again.  
     "I'm ________. A pleasure to meet you too. Your store is so perfect." You try to hold nervousness from your smile. She raises a secondary hand to her mouth in mock shyness at your comment.  
     You leave with your spider cupcake and find a bench nearby to observe goings-on while you eat it. The cake is like nothing you've ever tasted. You can't place it. Despite it being oversized, it doesn't fill you up at all, but manages to make you feel energised and sated all the same. You feel like you could get far too used to eating these. You lean back in your seat and sigh.  
     It's getting towards evening and the sounds of people settling in for the night and closing up shops can be heard faintly around you. The sky is painted orange. This is the best time of day, you think; the light makes everything look surreal. You inhale deeply, and realise that for the first time in a long while, you are really focussing on the moment. Taking in the ambience of the autumn dusk, you actually feel awake, aware of yourself and your surroundings. You haven't felt that way since Frisk left. They are alive, and happy, which is more than you thought possible a month ago. Perhaps this is okay. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who can't wait until Friday to post chapters? This kid right here.  
> So I suppose from now on I'll just say updates every few days to a week? That sounds achievable.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter :3


	5. Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which curiosity will probably get you killed.

     It has been over a week since the monsters arrived. Since your child returned. Why are you counting days? You huff at the calendar in the office and absent-mindedly push a crushed tin foil ball left over from lunch around on the desk, eventually managing to pot it through the hole in the tabletop designed for the phone wires. _It's no good, stop putting it off_ , says a selfish part of you to the rest of your brain. Some other optimistic parts of your mind disagree, trying to reassure you that this situation is, in fact, fine, and something you can absolutely deal with. The optimistic parts aren't fooling anyone though. There is no way you are going to be okay without seeing your child and knowing for certain that they are safe and sound.

     There is a very short list on the desk beside you. Things to do. You always write lists. It's meant to help with stress, but you just like that it means you can appear to be an organised, responsible adult. This particular list is not helping you feel like that at all. The items listed are pathetic attempts to distract yourself from the one thing that you want to do. You want to speak to Frisk. And why shouldn't you? The monsters have no right to keep them from you.  
     You don't really know how to go about locating Frisk though. Your detective skills are good, but not that good. You resolve to just head to the high street, maybe speak to Muffet or the Nice Cream vendor again. There aren't that many monsters, so surely someone will know who Frisk is living with.

     It's clear and bright when you get out of work. The cloudless sky is retaining no heat and the air burns your lungs a little even though it's still early in the evening. You detour to the high street and assess your options. The vendor is here, further down the street than before. The bakery is open too. Monster establishments apparently don't have the same hours as human ones, which makes sense since they lived in a place with no sky until recently. You scan the street and notice a flash of yellow. The armless kid from before. They are valiantly trying to talk to a human child who looks mostly terrified. Perhaps a kid from the monster community would know about Frisk? You plan your move.  
     As you watch, the human child runs off, making some excuse inaudible from where you stand. Now that isn't fair. The monster looks crestfallen. You head to the Nice Cream stall. It's too cold for you, but it might just make the kid feel better. You keep them in your sights while you make a little small talk with the vendor, who remembers you, and then you head over to the dinosaur. They have given up and are sitting on the floor outside what is probably their family's house, drawing onto the pavement with a piece of blue chalk clutched between their toes. You approach.  
     "Hey! What are you drawing?" You sit next to the child, who is shocked beyond words to have a human talk to them. You inspect the drawing. It's actually a pretty accurate impression of the blue aquatic woman you saw at the publicity meeting before. She's throwing several spears at once. "Wow, kid, that's really good!"  
     "Yo... thank you! It's Undyne. She's the strongest monster warrior. Have you met her?" Their voice is pretty bold for someone so small. Their big eyes sparkle.  
     "Nah, sadly I haven't. I've seen her before though. She was pretty cool." You offer the kid the Nice Cream. "I bought this for you since you looked sad. Want it?"  
     "Dude! Thank you! That's really kind. Most humans aren't that friendly with me." The kid takes the gift and unwraps it dextrously with their feet. The wrapper falls away - You're super spiffy!  
     "That's not fair is it. Human kids are probably just a bit scared because you look so strong." You receive a wide-mouthed grin for that.  
     "I am strong, but not very. I'm not gonna fight anyone unless they hurt my friends."  
     "Very honourable of you. Do you have any human friends?" You feel awful for using such a brave little creature like this, but you already know they would understand why you did it.  
     "I only have one. Oh! Wait. I have two now, if you are my friend?" They look hopeful, giving you the monster equivalent of puppy-dog eyes.  
     "Of course I'll be your friend! My name is ________." You tip your head to the side to request your new little friend's name.  
     "I'm Monster Kid. Most people just call me M.K."  
     "Good to meet you M.K." You take a spare piece of chalk from the ground, a yellow one, and draw a little M.K next to Undyne. They giggle at it. You push on with your investigation. "Who is your other human friend?"  
     "The monster ambassador. Frisk? I met them Underground."  
     "Hey! I know Frisk too. I knew them before they went Underground though. I haven't spoken to them since they got back here." You might as well be partially truthful.  
     "Dude, that sucks! You should go see them."  
     "You think I could? I do miss them a lot, but I don't know where they live now."  
     "I do! They live with Queen Toriel. I can take you there." M.K stands up immediately, ready to take you on a mission to see Frisk. Queen? You really didn't expect to find them that easily. You feel unpreparedness take ahold of your stomach and twist.  
     "Oh-... Kid, that would be amazing. You sure?"  
     "Yup. Its not far. Let's go already!" They are bouncing a little from foot to foot. Feeling like Sherlock Holmes, you stand and motion for them to lead the way. They waddle ahead of you at high speed, falling flat on their face upon the stone within seconds. You start forwards to help them, bracing for the sound of pain, but the child somehow gets straight back up. They look back at you, a proud grin plastered all over their slightly bruised face. Wow. No single monster you had met so far could ever be considered average in any way.

~✿~

     You pace along behind M.K, and they tell you all about various goings-on among monsters since they reached the surface. On the whole, it's more positive than you expected. Humans are starting up societies to learn about monsters, and monster-specific laws are being put into place.The ambassador had it a lot easier than they thought, especially among younger generations and online communities where monsters are extremely popular. Things are going well.  
     You reach Frisk's house shortly. It's a pretty detached cottage, small but rather upmarket, with roses and ivy trained up the walls and a topiary tree on the immaculate lawn. You feel your stomach twist again. You aren't ready to have this conversation. Monster Kid is oblivious to your fears and skips up the cobble path to the door. Rather than using the doorbell, they head butt the door, causing you forget your fears to rush to their aid.  
     "Wait, you'll hurt your head!" You look worriedly at the dinosaur who gives you another grin.  
     "I'm fine, I've got a hard head!" You both wait a bit before you knock again, but it becomes clear that nobody is home right now. M.K sighs and you give them a little shrug.  
     "Never mind kid. I know where I'm going now. I'll try again later, ok?"  
     "Aww, man. I wanted you to meet 'em." They look honestly disappointed on your behalf.  
     "It's alright, seriously. Thank you so much for your help, Kid." Monster Kid nods.  
     "See you around, ________." They waddle off back down the road the way they came and you stare up at the cottage. It's perfect. The kind of place you would love Frisk to live in. You feel bitterness claw at your throat and sting in your eyes, adding to the discomfort of the cold air. You head back to the end of the garden and pull out your phone. It's just gone 6pm. You wander a bit further down the road, but you are dawdling. Is it worth waiting?  
     Your question is answered for you as a silver-blue car turns onto the road and pulls up to the driveway. You attempt to look like someone who's just walking by, focussing on your phone until you see the bipedal goat from before step out. Frisk appears from the other side of the car and skips up to the door, and the goat creature unlocks it for them. That must be the queen. You realise you have to make a move. Either you back out or think up something to say. _You can do it!_ Says the optimistic part of your mind.

     You step up to the door and find your arm unwilling to knock. Deep breaths. It is going to be easy. She should understand you wanting to see your own child. Toriel answers, and looks you up and down a moment before she smiles. Your mind assesses without your permission. Pure white fur. Big, beautiful brown eyes. Perfect posture, warm smile, immaculate dress. Certainly looks like a queen to you. When she speaks her voice is rich and level, with perfect enunciation of course.  
     "Can I help you?" You realise that all the words you had shuffled into some coherent order have run away while you weren't paying attention.  
     "Uh-... Hello. Your majesty. I'm ________. Can I see Frisk?" Wow. Nice one. Congratulations on your amazing contribution to first impressions. Her smile doesn't change.  
     "Oh? I am afraid that Frisk has homework to do, ________. They can't come out right now. I'm sorry, my dear." The sweetness in her voice is overpowering, and you recognise her words as an unquestionable fact. One of the abilities of a queen, you suppose.  
     "Ah. That's a shame. I would like to see them. I'll just. Come back later?" Your legs are already carrying you back from the doorway, and no amount of complaint from the braver parts of your brain can stop them. Toriel nods solemnly.  
     "Perhaps. Have a good evening, human." The way she says that and promptly shuts the door tells you that next time you try to talk to Frisk, they will be busy. And the time after that, and every time following. You were just not capable of arguing with that woman. Something dawns on you. Did you actually tell her that you were Frisk's biological parent? No, you didn't. Idiot. Frisk might not have said anything to Toriel about the situation. Maybe they didn't want her to know.

     What you don't know is that Toriel noticed you loitering around the house when they got home. She watches you worriedly from the window as you leave. How did you get her address? How long had you been waiting for them to get home? What did you want with her child? She snaps a photograph of you with her phone as you pause for a moment to look back at the house, and immediately sends it in a message. _This human is trying to get to Frisk - they are probably another harassing fan. Could you find out about them for me? I can pay you_. She writes. She has had enough dealings with over-enthusiastic fans and anti-monster activists. She isn't about to let humans start stalking the ambassador.

 ~✿~ 

     It's getting dark earlier, you notice as you procrastinate your way back down the street. Winter is drawing in early this year. You turn at the end of the road and look the cottage over once more. To a kid used to foster care and a fragmented relationship with their parent, this home would be like wonderland, complete with fantastical creatures. You are almost envious. The street lights intermittently flicker on, derailing your train of thought. It really is getting dark. You get the feeling you're being watched, and scan the street. Is that patch of shadow darker than the others? Does it have a pale face, or is that just a trick of the light? The street light above that area stutters to life, painting the ground on that spot in a yellow glow, and its an ordinary patch of road. No sign of anything that would cause a reflection like that. You shudder, pulling up your collar and swiftly heading back towards town. The warning feeling tingling your spine stays with you all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised that all the italics that should have been in here hadn't actually transferred during editing. That's fixed now. Sorry for any confusion!
> 
> I know that there isn't much Sans yet. There will be, ok. I did say it was slow.
> 
> I warned you, dawg.


	6. Who's There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a monster comes to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also 'in which my favourite character finally appears'.

     You stand in empty dark space, transfixed. Your breathing echoes back at you from the shadows, distorted and dull, chased across the expanse by rolling waves of static and a susurration of indiscernible voices. A small, pale shape looms from the fog as you stare dazedly on. It is growing steadily nearer. Monster Kid, your inner narrative tells you. They stumble across the ponderous path of an oversized cupcake which is sent spinning upwards into the void. A gigantic colourful parasol floats in the blurry distance, as if it were a cloud. Some spatial awareness you still hold in this place informs you that someone is watching you. You turn your unfeeling body to see that it is - of all the people you wish it not to be - Queen Toriel. She doesn't look impressed. Her dress is ripped and stained and you get the feeling it's your fault somehow. A rogue thought tramples across the mismatched dreamscape and reminds you that this is really, incredibly silly. You promptly snap out of it.  
     In reality, you are standing at a metal basin in the hotel kitchen, staring vacantly into dirty dishwater as if it were a scrying glass. You have been mulling over the events of two days ago repeatedly, assessing all possibilities between the monotonous food prep and reloading of the dishwasher. You have no idea how long you had been lost to this particular trance, but it certainly hadn't been a productive one. Luckily it appears to be the end of your shift. You pick up your things and absently head out to the lobby, musing all the way.  
    Notes on the case so far: Toriel was not going to be of any help to your cause; she clearly doesn't like you very much. Frisk has not told Toriel about you, which means they probably don't want her to know, for whatever reason. Because of this you will have to find away to speak to Frisk alone, for their own comfort. You need to do more research to find your in. Current list of monster contacts; M.K, the Nice Cream vendor, and (questionably) Muffet. Monsters to be wary of; Toriel, Muffet (?), and that shifty skeleton from the bakery.  
     Your currently fully-engaged autopilot pulls up the brakes abruptly on this subject, forcing you to pay attention to your surroundings. The space between your lower ribs twists upside-down as you recognise why. _Think of the devil._ Lounging outside the embossed glass door of the hotel lobby as if he owns the place is the very skeleton you were just evaluating. He is wearing one of the hotel's uniforms that you recognise as that of a doorman, which fits his broad, stocky form rather well, and sure enough, as you watch he casually opens the door for a trio of businesspeople with a warm smile. He says something you can't hear from indoors as they pass him, and they laugh and share looks of raised-browed amusement with each other. Unbelievable. A monster is working at the same hotel as you. You try to maintain hold of the excitement you feel, but anxiety stamps it out, because now you have to go through that door, and it just won't do to ignore him since he will likely recognise you. You have to at least say hello.  
     You wait a bit until another employee - a porter you recognise - steps across the lobby to leave, and follow suit. As the porter steps through the doorway, the skeleton nods to him and wishes him well, which he returns. You step out, slowing your pace to apply a small wave and a smile. Your smile is returned by the other, with a tinge that you decide to be recognition, despite the other being a skeleton who should not have facial expressions.  
    "Oh, it's you." His voice is intense and resonating with a hint of New Yorker accent, mildly slurred with fatigue. You nod, smiling a little wider.  
    "Nice to see you again, uh...?" You say it as a question with one eyebrow raised as you ask for his name, but he doesn't seem to realise that. He just gives a lazy, one-syllable chuckle that sounds like 'heh', so you step over that conversational bump and continue. "Did you just start working here today?" You receive a subtle nod. Not much of a talker then. "Are you enjoying it?" You attempt.  
    "It's work. Pays well. It'll do." He doesn't look that thrilled, and it's clear he doesn't want to chat in depth. It occurs to you that he might be nervous. Well, at least you tried.  
    "Well, I hope you have a good day. See you soon." You pause a second before turning to leave so that if he had wanted to give his name, he could. Your sentence just hangs in the air.  
    "Yeah. Have a day." He finally replies. Despite being a skeleton, you can tell he isn't smiling. Odd. Rude, even. You walk home buzzing with new, unnecessary questions that evade all your attempts at being quashed. What to do with all this new information. Perhaps you should write a book. You have so much research to do about monsters.

~✿~

     You find yourself looking forward to work the next morning, a rare occurrence. Maybe you'll have better luck talking to your new colleague today. No such joy, sadly. You attempt to keep up a little small talk about how the skeleton is settling in, but he's having none of it. The same abruptness of tone and defensive body language that probably isn't down to shyness. Disappointingly, the next day is Friday, and you finish much later due to the dreaded (and probably unhealthy) double shift. By the time you get out of your prison of crystal glass polishing and ferrying crockery around, the object of your fixation has clocked off.  
     The mood continues in this fashion throughout the next week, too. It's really starting to get to you, distracting you from your more important concerns. It's clear by this point that it's not a matter of him being nervous around people. He's downright cheery with the clientele, and chats and jokes like an old friend with most of the other employees by now. What's his problem? There's only one thing for it. You have to confront him on his own ground. Meanwhile, there's the matter of pushing forward with your investigation with Frisk.  
     Earlier this week you had seen them in town as you left the florists. Your heart had leapt. You had quick-walked after them, turned the street corner only to find the woman you knew to be Undyne standing in your way. You had been so close. You didn't have your words ready, and had tripped on your own explanations. Again, Frisk didn't know you were there, too busy laughing in silent glee beside the other skeleton you had seen before. Undyne had told you immediately with low malice to 'get lost, punk' which was all the persuasion your fight or flight instincts needed to choose the latter technique. You had screamed into a pillow later, curled up on the oversized sofa in the glittering dark of your home. Frustrated at your own severely lacking bravery, you had vowed out loud to the listening darkness that you weren't going to let your words betray you again.  
     The next conversation you will have with an important person will be meticulously planned out for every eventuality, you decide. So you write a list, and you are ready to try again. The first conversation you intend to have is a test of your communicative abilities, which have apparently wasted away to being completely unusable. Time to find out, and deal with your uncomfortable relationship with a certain colleague at the same time.

     You wait until some time after the end of your work day, a week after the skeleton arrived, to try out the new angle. As you lean against the wall in the lobby - in a spot you have become accustomed to using to spectate on the street outside over your years working here - you can see the broad form of the skeleton. He appears to be asleep with his head slumped forwards. Your analytical disposition comments that he really fits that navy and red tailcoat far better than is fair, considering his bad posture and that the suit was designed for humans. You pull down the lower hem of your own waistcoat habitually. It never did sit quite right on you.  
     Eventually you can put it off no longer. You organise your words in advance into a coordinated mental map of how you intend to respond to each clipped answer he might give. The click of your shoes on the tile is uncomfortably loud in the polite stillness of the lobby as you make the distance up to the door. Rather than push it open yourself as is usual, you knock neatly, twice. You have come to know some of this monster's quirks, after all. The skeleton starts awake and glances at you before looking away resentfully as he opens the door. You had expected this reaction of course. The door pulls outwards, meaning that it now stands between you and your apathetic target. You smile wryly, and step forward into the doorway, facing the door. You knock twice again, with as much purpose as possible. He is clearly incredibly displeased, but it doesn't phase you anywhere near as much as it should. At first he seems like he might ignore you, but he can't resist. He knows what you are trying to do. He hums a growling sigh before speaking up.  
     "Who's there?"  
     "Mining." You reply, face set in fake seriousness.  
     "Mining who?"  
     "My name's ________. What's yours?" Admittedly not the best joke ever, but certainly good enough for the occasion. Your sharp eyes pick up on the split-second smile that warms the edges of his eye sockets before his jaw clenches. Awkward silence. His somehow malleable skull goes through obvious decision making expressions. Confusion followed by concern, and then just that unnervingly blank, fake smile.  
     "Nice try, pal. I hate to break it to ya, but I don't mix with your kind." There is a finality to the way he says it. Like tombstones slamming down.  
     Your internal map reading grinds to a halt, because this road wasn't on your map. A frown darkens your features a moment, but an instinct kicks in before you can stop it. Something wary and sensible, that recognises when it's in danger. It commands you to nod solemnly, which you do rather than speak your mind. You try appear apologetic and turn swiftly on your heel with hunched shoulders. You can't use your voice, since all your words are in hiding from an obvious threat. You can only cough back the sting of frustration in your throat as you take the hotel steps two at a time. _Coward. Why didn't you call him out?_ Just because he's a monster doesn't mean he should get to treat humans like that, no matter how awful humans were as a species. Racist. Speciesist? Whatever it was. It didn't make sense.  
     You realise that perhaps that's what he's really like. Perhaps his cheeriness with the other employees is a mask he wears so that he can work here. Now that you think of it, his smile did seem to drop whenever he thought nobody was watching. That doesn't help to explain why he doesn't bother to apply the mask for you though. You feel sick. You force yourself to stop psychoanalysing and attempt to quell the buzzing of oppressive static filling your ears. You don't even notice the walk home, but some observant pedestrians you pass on the way might notice the broiling black cloud that follows you. Suffice it to say that you do not sleep well. Your dreams feel like drowning in ice water. You awake several times to numb limbs and a hoarse throat, as if you had been calling for help. But awake or asleep, nobody comes to aid you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates within a week.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	7. Theoretically

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you come up with a plan.

     If a new technique fails, but the failing was not down to any error on the part of the operator of said technique, is the test still a failure? It can't be, surely. The failure was due to the unexpected nature of the subject. You nod in a resolute way to the empty living room in general.  
     You are still shaken. The words of the dirty human hater ring in your ears in perfect clarity, a full day after the event. You haven't slept well and today was a cruel double shift, which is likely aggravating the humming in your head. You are still very much offended by the words of the skeleton, but you aren't sure you have the courage to confront him. You change your mind about that, after several attempts to sleep are prevented by a crescendo of whirring static in your ears, every time you close your eyes.  
     You leave the house, shutting and locking the door quietly due to how late it is. Ten thirty at night is a stupid time to be going for a walk really, but the small city of Ebott is generally a peaceful one. You moved here when you were only just old enough to support yourself, not long out of foster care, and it immediately felt more like home than the smoggy, grimy vastness of your old home-city. You breathe in the sea breeze coming up from the coast as you walk, and hum a tune that you don't remember the words to, in an attempt to override the hum in your ears.

     As you step into an alleyway, you pick up the sound of someone walking behind you. Maybe it was a bad time to go out. It doesn't really start to bother you until you sense the shiver of proximity crawling on your back, and you speed up. You hear the other's footsteps speed up too. Their stride is longer than yours, theirs footsteps heavier. Their shoes click on the floor evenly, getting closer. Apprehension stops you from turning to look over your shoulder, and your breathing quickens to a panicked flutter. You glimpse the light of the main street ahead and kick up your pace to a run. Through your muddled thoughts you register the person behind you saying something that is too garbled to understand, and it feels close enough that they might snatch at you. Your fear-clouded mind doesn't register any accent, tone or traits of the voice at all. You stumble onto the main street, directly opposite a bar. Light and murmuring sound filters out, and several Friday night drinkers sit at tables outside. Safety.  
     You lean against a wall to recover your ragged breathing and calm your shaking limbs. In the light of the large street, you finally turn to look back into the alleyway. There's nobody there. Your ears are ringing and throbbing so loudly that it hurts. You can't hear any footsteps. You squint into the darkness. Did they stop following you, or fall back into the shadows before you could identify them? You know there was someone there. You aren't _that_ tired. You wait for movement, and after a long time you think you see a splash of pale that could be someone's face. It doesn't move at all though, so you eventually give up staring it down. Probably a plastic bag caught on something. You sigh and step back towards the light.  
     Well, it isn't like you are just going to go back the way you came. After a moment more spent collecting your scrambled thoughts, you begin down the street. This one connects directly to the one that the bakery is on. Before the scare, you had been vaguely aiming to go there, to give Muffet a piece of your mind about her skeletal friend. You don't feel quite so brave now, but maybe you should head there anyway. You are interested to see whether it will be open this late.

     To your relief, it is still open. The door is ajar, and golden light pools in an arc outside. You enter, and survey the room. There are no customers here, but you can hear someone moving about and humming a jaunty tune in the back room, so you sit on a mauve barstool at the counter and wait, quite happy to waste time here. On the counter is a pile of menus, so you pick one up and leaf through it. It's mostly overpriced confectionary and drinks. Not that you mind, its worth the price for the experience of the store. The atmosphere in the refuge has the same effect as lavender under your pillow. You place your head in your hands and sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders relent a little. Your hands have stopped shaking from adrenaline at last.  
     Muffet comes through from the doorway behind the counter, and lets out a little gasp of recognition when she notices you.  
     "Well, if it isn't my little ________. Are you quite alright, dearie?"  
     You raise your head and muster up a tired smile. "Hi, Muffet. Yes, I'm alright, just tired is all."  
     "Well, it is late by human standards, after all. What brings you here this fine night, if I may ask?"  
     "I couldn't sleep. Thought I might step out for a while."  
     "And you chose to come visit little old me? I'm flattered!" She looks very smug.  
     "I like it here. It's not too late at night is it?"  
     "Certainly not!" The spider begins busying herself with organising cakes in a cabinet. "I was just whipping up another batch of spider croissants."  
     You watch her dainty hands working. "You're making croissants at nearly eleven at night? Do you even need sleep?"  
     She giggles at you. "Spiders don't need much sleep, and besides, I have a business to run." She waves a spare arm over her pastel domain. "Speaking of, can I interest you in anything, or are you just going to sit there until you are turned into a pastry yourself?" There's that tone again, a subtle hint of what a bad idea it would be to refuse her offer. You read through a menu again. While you are choosing, an alarm goes off in the back room and Muffet disappears to handle it. You pick out a cocktail called 'Lavender Dream'. It sounds like just the kind of thing you could do with. Just as you decide, Muffet returns with a baking tray full of large, piping hot croissants. They smell wonderful, though not like normal pastries of course. Muffet catches you taking in the scent.  
     "Would you like one, my sweet?" You nod, unable to resist the intrigue. You order your drink as well, and she brings it to you. She prepares the cocktail shaker with two hands, puts the croissant onto a plate with another two, and wraps cutlery in a napkin with the last pair, making unbelievably quick work of it all. She could probably serve customers faster than anyone else.  
     She watches you as you take a tentative sip of the drink, leaning her head on a slender arm upon the countertop. The pale purple liquid tastes like a summer evening, perfumed and warming, and makes you feel lighter immediately. You find yourself wishing that you knew more about the biological effects of monster food. It seems to take no time at all to do its job.  
     After Muffet has observed your reaction she leaves you be and continues pottering around the shop. You sigh. The stress of the incident earlier is actually making you feel rather worn out now that the adrenaline has gone. You bite the croissant and sip your drink, probably faster than you should since its taste is so intriguing and uplifting.

    At some point during your musing, a crowd of the cat-dog creatures has entered the café, and their shrill voices fill the space with murmuring. After what must be fifteen minutes, the cocktail has taken effect and you decide that since you are here, you might as well do what you came here to do.  
     "Muffet?" You ask over your shoulder to the woman, who is returning from serving drinks to the other customers.  
     "Yes, dear?" She begins fixing a stand beside the counter.  
     "Have you had any problems with humans being racist towards you here?"  
     "Oh, sweetie. So kind of you to ask. But luckily, no, the transition has been rather easier than expected. Only a few of us have had any problems."  
     "One of those few... doesn't happen to be your skeleton friend, does it?" You purposefully push yourself off the deep end, so there's no way you can back out of it. You hear Muffet stop what she's doing and turn towards you.  
     "My skeleton friend? Well, he himself hasn't had any incidents as far as I know. However..." She cuts herself off. "What makes you ask, pumpkin?"  
     Here we go. "He-... he started working at the same hotel as me, but he doesn't seem to want to talk. It feels like he doesn't like humans much. He was really rude to me." At this point, Muffet comes over to sit beside you. You have caught her attention and she looks concerned.  
     "Well, I never. Of all people, I wouldn't expect that of him. How very peculiar. Are you sure you didn't upset him somehow?"  
     "I don't think so? I told him a joke, is all."  
     "You're certain it was the same skeleton you saw in here the first time we met? Heavyset, quietly spoken?" You nod. "That doesn't make any sense. No monster would be harmful to humans without cause, least of all the skeletons, not after everything that has happened. They are both such decent fellows. The other sibling I could understand causing offence by accident, but not Sans. He's harmless... Mostly." She is studying you with all five eyes intensely. She looks like perhaps she doesn't believe you, but then something dawns on her. She clicks her fingers on all three right hands.  
     "I've got it. It must be the ambassador." You feel your stomach flip as she says it. "The skeleton brothers consider themselves somewhat guardians to the monster ambassador. Recently, they have been receiving unwanted attention from monster supporters and anti-monster activists alike. Humans can be rather over-enthusiastic sometimes, can't they? My dear?" She realises that you have gone pale and silent, staring into the distance.  
     "That explains a lot." Is all you can muster.  
     "It does?"  
     "Yes. The ambassador, Frisk-..." You struggle to find the courage to tell her something you have kept so quiet. She is still on your 'untrustworthy' list, after all. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, I hardly know you." You look at Muffet who gives you a reassuring nod, indicating for you to continue. You rub your face and try again.  
     "Frisk is my child. Biologically speaking." You watch Muffet's brow raise. "I went to visit them, but the Queen wouldn't let me near them. I understand why now. God, she must think I'm some sort of stalker. What have I done, Muffet? I didn't realise. You don't think Toriel told him about me, do you?" You place your head in your hands and make a strained little noise. "Of course she did."  
     Muffet shuffles about, unsure of what to say for a change. "Well. That's quite something. It'll be alright, poppet. I'm sure Frisk would just love to see you. They are such a friendly little thing." You don't look at all convinced when you lift your head to look at her, eyes full of incredulity. She smiles. "I can't say I've ever really spoken to Toriel myself, but I tell you what. I'll let that grumpy skeleton know about your situation when I see him next, hm? Make things a little easier for you?" She is waiting for your permission. You study the spider lady for some time.  
     "You'd really help me out like that? That's so kind of you, Muffet. I had no idea how I was going to approach him again after what happened before." You shake your head at your pretty purple benefactor, who just shrugs, a strange action seen on someone with six arms. "But I still don't know how I might be able to contact Frisk."  
     "Hi!" Comes a squeaky voice from beside you, interrupting your train of thought. There are two cat-dogs stacked one on top of the other so that the top one can reach the edge of the counter. They are both looking at you with huge, sparkling eyes.  
     "Hello there." You return, grinning down at them.  
     "Hi! I'm Temmie. And this is my friend, Temmie!" The creature on top says. Her fast and enthusiastic speech has a quirky accent to it. She continues. "You are friendies of Frisk?" What a funny way she has of speaking.  
     "I am, yes. You know them?" You feel like you are getting the hang of talking to new monsters. They always seem interested and happy to help you.  
     "Of course! The small human is helper of Tems." The lower of the two Temmies talks this time, and bounces excitedly in time to her speech, causing the upper one to wobble dangerously. Muffet giggles and stands up to go back around behind the counter, happy to leave you to your introductions.  
     "Oh?" You intone. "Frisk helped you?"  
     "Ya! Tem boss go to college because of them! They gave many muns." Says Temmie One, the one balanced on top. It takes you a moment to work out what she means.  
     "They gave you money?" You notice Muffet raise her brow in amusement. Temmie number two begins a convoluted story about Frisk bringing 'Tem Boss' items to sell to her, in order to save up enough money to help her go to college. Some of the way through the story, Tem One falls off her friend's back, making a noise like a squeaky toy. You wonder how many other monsters have stories like this. It seems like almost every monster has had positive interactions with Frisk. You sit and listen intently, pondering on how many monsters have been aided and befriended by your child. When Temmie Two has finished recounting the story, she sits and wags her tail, smiling up at you. You return the smile as you move ahead with your investigation.  
     "That's really interesting, Temmie. Thank you for telling me. Do you see Frisk often?" You tip your head to one side as you ask. Both Temmies say 'Ya!' at once, and Temmie One continues, "They come visit us at Temmie Park every Saturday!"  
     "Temmie Park?" You repeat. You hold on tight to the information to retain anything that might be useful in your quest.  
     "It's our new home. We have a fort, and battlements and a slide and..." You tone out slightly to take mental notes, assessing and correlating.

~✿~

     It's late enough to be considered early by the time you finish your conversation and head home. You don't notice anything strange on the way, though you make sure to avoid the Alleyway of Questionable Safety. You have the details for the park where the Temmies have made their new home, and it isn't far from the centre of town. You have just tonight to come up with some semblance of a plan in order to approach Frisk. Tomorrow, you will sort this mess out. This little mantra you keep repeating to yourself is beginning to lose its charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I hated this chapter for some reason. It just didn't want to be finished.
> 
> *dusts off hands*
> 
> There is a blog for this fic at rise-reunite.tumblr.com


	8. Asphyxiate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans... don't go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning!
> 
> (you have been warned)

     The first splinter of crystalline light pierces through your stomach with a searing sensation more akin to a burn than an incision. The shock of it takes you a moment to comprehend. The pillar of glowing turquoise shatters as it runs you through, disappearing, and leaving no mark. The pain remains, however. Instinct clouds your judgement, and you are running from an unseen foe. They bellow for you to halt, but you hardly register the words. You make it a few meters before another strike falls. You hear it first, a singing hum of energy as both your legs are pinned by the blue barbs before they disintegrate.  
     Stopped in your tracks, you turn to face your assailant. From this distance, you can predict the attacks somewhat. You raise your arms reflexively to protect your torso from the next hit, only to find that it doesn't hit you. It shatters against a flimsy projected barrier a meter or so in front of you. _How did I do that?_ Two more spears do the same. In your fascination, you fail to notice another projectile though, and it rips viciously through your right side, into your lower ribcage. You breathe out a twisted wail as you experience the sensation of the burning spearhead driving its way into your lung. Ribs splinter. Your lung collapses like a tattered balloon and you shudder to the floor. Your vision fails.  
     There is nothing, for a moment. Numbness and cold. Static in your ears. Then a light, dim and purple. Before you floats a delicate heart, shivering and shimmering. You know it's failing. Soon the light will go out and you will be lost, you can feel it. A fault zigzags its way down the centre. You try to resist. To reach out and hold the thing close. To make it stop. You can feel it breaking, as your limbs fail, and your consciousness dissolves. In the last moment, as it splits, you are sure you see someone reach out for the shattered pieces in much the same way you had. But it isn't your hand. Long thin fingers and visible joints that remind you of some forgotten nightmare. And then it ends.

~✿~

     You ache. Your lungs struggle to function as they react to the shock of consciousness. Your skin prickles as if every inch were burned. But as you become aware of your surroundings, the feeling dissipates, shaken off by rational thought. You're in your bed. Your sheets constrict you as if you had been writhing about in your sleep. You are alive. It was only a nightmare.  
     Still, though, your dreams are getting exponentially difficult to handle. Another one like that would not be appreciated, you instruct your subconscious. Though the memory of whatever you dreamt begins to fade fast now with the dawn light, the sensation of the invisible wounds stays with you faintly. Your lower legs ache, and you actually check your ribs to be certain they aren't bruised.

     Throughout the day, the discomfort stays with you. You make bouquets at the florists in a dazed state, trying to fathom the root of your disruptive dreams and moods. You assume for now that it is due to the sudden change of pace of the return of your child and the arrival of the monsters.  
     The day steps up its weirdness rating when a customer comes in. An elderly woman. She starts up a long, one-sided conversation in the way that only old ladies can. You nod and give responses where appropriate. As she talks, you find yourself knowing what she is going to say. She will ask about a certain new type of flower, which her granddaughter loves. A golden, five-petalled variety, similar in appearance to a buttercup but much larger. You are awed at the strength of the déjà vu you are experiencing. You even know exactly where to look for the flowers in the storeroom of the shop without ever having seen them before. This is pretty great.

     To begin with, you feel empowered, exercising this new ability. When a coworker knocks a vase from the countertop, you catch it before it tips enough to spill its contents. Your colleague is shocked, and you burst into a fit of giggles at their expression of amazed relief.  
     A second customer is left slightly flummoxed when you try out the extent of the power by guessing their request before they can tell you what they need. While they leave flattered and impressed at your ability to gauge their needs, you are conflicted. Should you be proud about your new found superpower, or should you be worried? It's beginning to unsettle you a little. You have, in your limited online research into monsters, found that quite a lot of them have magical abilities. Your mind wanders to ridiculous theories of monster magic beginning to affect humans, giving them new powers - levitation, telekinesis, prescience - like in some TV show. You laugh inwardly. It would make a good book, you suppose.

~✿~

     By the time you finish your shift, you are thoroughly disturbed. You evaluate your sanity as you begin the walk to the Temmie Park to initiate your plan. As you walk, you find apprehension building with each step. An inexplicable warning feeling slows your pace. This idea to intercept Frisk at the park suddenly strikes you as the worst plan you have ever made, despite it being fundamentally sound. This isn't just anxiety you feel. As with the déjà vu, there is no logical explanation that you can see. You just have a feeling.  
     You make it to the park anyway, and stand at the border of the field, scanning the scene and trying to push down the pressure of the unexplained fear. There is an impressive climbing frame here as you remember from visits years ago, when you were able to spend time with Frisk. The fort is complete with battlements as the Temmies had said. Little blue banners have been draped from the tower. A Temmie is lying on her back halfway down the slide, wiggling her little legs to try to get moving again while another of her kind watches from the top and laughs. Other Temmies are visible dotted around, perhaps a total of ten or so, and among them are other small monsters, including M.K, who is trying to use a swing despite not having arms to hold on. Beside them you notice a human child. Short for their age, clothes too big and tousled brown hair. They are wearing the same jumper they have worn for years, because it's warm and soft and perfect. You know, because it used to be yours a long time ago. It didn't fit you then, either. They are smiling, trying to teach M.K how to use the swing properly, like you had taught them once upon a time.  
     You are shaken from your nostalgia as a flash of colour catches your eye. Undyne. Red and blue and muscular, she leans there against a tree with the same nonchalant menace you might see in a mischievous cat, just keeping an eye on Frisk and talking to another monster you saw at the meeting. You find you are shaking, and a stab of pain runs through your ribs, though at this point all details of the nightmare are forgotten. You sigh. This is a bad plan. There have been enough omens today to affirm that. It dawns on you that if Toriel has warned the skeletons against you, then perhaps others might know as well. Especially Frisk's caretaker. Of course. This isn't going to work out well. You really don't enjoy the idea of being notorious amongst the monster community.  
     You stare for a few more minutes before turning to leave. Another plan failed. What now? You will have to speak to Toriel again somehow, or you could write her a letter and avoid the confrontation? You can't bring yourself to think about it any more for now, and instead you distract yourself by staring up at the sky. It's heading towards sunset, but it's overcast, no sun breaking through to highlight the clouds unfortunately. It looks like it will rain soon.

     You are lost in your thoughts as you take your usual route home. This way, you have to pass through the Alleyway, but you are so used to the route that you don't realise until your feet have carried you through it to the street on the other side. If you were paying more attention, perhaps you would have noticed the tall man, clothing so dark that it almost hurts to look at him, smiling disconcertingly from the darkness of a doorway. Perhaps it is better that you didn't see him there. He wishes you had, but he doesn't blame you for not being able to. Most people don't anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it Halloween yet? It smells distinctly spooky in here.
> 
> UPDATE  
> I am working about as many hours as Reader right now. It's a good first-hand experience of how having next to no days off, and doing physically and socially draining work ends up destroying most of your ability for recreation. I will be back within the month, my precious creatures.


	9. Setbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks ahoy. Something made me decide there weren't enough feelsies up in here.

     He doesn't realise immediately when the reset happens. Some self-defensive instinct does its best to numb him from realising the regrowing tendrils of his deepest fear. He's been doing better since the monsters walked from the mouth of their mountain prison. He stands a little taller, he's shaken off the worst of the nightmares. Sometimes he sleeps all the way through a night. Sometimes, as he drifts off, he even looks forward to waking up. He has held a tight grip on Frisk's promise to him since they made it out.

     He and Frisk had talked, at sunset on the first day of their freedom. He had asked them; begged them, kneeling to make eye contact with the tiny child. He tried not to let his throat tighten, tried to keep his voice above a growl.  
     "Please. Kid. Promise me. This one's right, isn't it?" He searched their gently rounded features for the hope his soul clung to desperately. His breathing hitched. "This is the right one. No more resets. Please." It wasn't a request. It was an ultimatum. He began to lose hope at their lack of response and he fell forward towards them, only to find Frisk's delicate frame coming to meet him. They didn't often make contact with him like they did with Toriel and Papyrus. They were probably still afraid, which made sense. But they did now. They pressed close, struggling to keep him upright. Their arms wrapped around as much of his ribcage as they could, bunching up the back of his jacket in their little hands. They stayed absolutely still, and breathed.  
     They breathed in and out very carefully, like their parent had done every time they had to be separate again. Frisk knew it had stopped them from being afraid, even if they smiled when they waved goodbye. Sans smiled the same. It looked like a real smile if you weren't paying attention. But the eyes never lit up.  
     The sensation of contact was grounding enough alone to bring Sans back to himself. He listened to the child's breathing and did his best to mimic the rise and fall of their chest with his own. His breaths came hoarse, but as he allowed himself this moment of peace, he felt years worth of tension begin to unravel. Frisk pulled away just enough to sign between them.  
     *No more.*  
     They nodded once, maintaining eye contact to reinforce their signing. They placed a finger to their lips, then placed their palm flat against their other fist. *Promise.*  
     Sans was mostly convinced, even this early on in their freedom. Frisk released him, stepping back, allowing one hand to slide down to hold his larger porcelain-pale one. They pointed up to the now indigo sky. He followed their gaze. Stars. Not crystals set into a low stone roof. Real, burning pinpricks of pure brilliance. He found himself as mute as his companion. If he had been alone, he might have cried. With his confidant here beside him, still grounding them both by maintaining contact, he smiled his most convincing smile. It had all felt too good to be true, like a dream.

     Perhaps it was. 

     His mind crawls up towards consciousness. Today is Saturday. Work isn't until late, so the day is free. He intends to sleep through most of it. As usual, Papyrus thwarts those plans with his comforting if cacophonous daily wake up call. He rolls from his bed, taking his blankets with him.  
     "Uagh...! Shit." There is a muffled thud. He has been prone to forgetting that his bed is no longer a mattress on the floor. For a while he just lies there, sprawled on the carpet, staring at the ceiling. Eventually he makes it to sitting upright, with some effort and grumbling. He pulls himself up using the bed, balling his covers up and throwing them back on top of the mattress. That will do.  
     He manages to make it to the living room, where he curls up on his side on the sofa. He can hear Papyrus in the next room, tinkering about and humming to himself. He inhales the tang of new fabric. It's nice, to have new furniture. It makes it easier to remember that they are above ground. He doesn't remember falling asleep again, but he rarely falls asleep on purpose anyway. It doesn't really matter.

     His mind crawls up towards consciousness. Today is Saturday. Work isn't until late, so the day is-... The day is... It's... Oh god. Oh no, please. Please. This isn't supposed to happen any more. It isn't. It can't. Did he dream it? A waking nightmare? No. No it isn't. He just knows. Why did Frisk reset? His breath is coming in short bursts as he frantically extricates himself from his bed sheets, heading straight for Papyrus, attempting to keep ahead of the tumbling madness of fears and questions that rise to close his throat and fill his chest cavity to bursting. He makes it to the hallway before he begins to lose grip on how to make his body function. As he stumbles and collapses, he manages to hold on to a single, burning thought. Frisk. He lets himself fall forward into the pool of static that is the Void.  
    Bones clatter onto the floorboards in Frisk's room. They start up from their perch with their usual energy, darting straight to Sans' side. He looks bad. His eye-lights are gone. He's knelt upon the floor, growling between breaths. Frisk doesn't touch him - touching might be wrong right now. They just hold out their hands, palms up, half making the sign to ask what's wrong, half reaching out to him. He doesn't see them, can't see them any more. There's no point trying to sign. He's lost in sickening panic. Frisk takes a deep breath, and leans to hold his shoulders lightly. His frame shakes beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. They hold tighter, and when that doesn't make any difference, they breathe out slowly and focus on their weak, useless voice box.  
    "S-ans."  
    No reaction.  
    "It-s Frisk."  
    They pause to take a long breath.  
    "You're. S-afe now. Ab-ove ground. Sans. Safe. We're safe." It becomes a little easier with each word as they remember how to make the shapes of the letters.  
    Through the drowning sensation, he hears them. He follows their little straining voice until he surfaces from the grip of the worst of it. He blinks to bring his eyes back into focus, and one of the pinpricks in his sockets flickers back to a dim glow. The left side stays dark like a broken lightbulb. Frisk tries to seem like they aren't afraid as the skeleton fixes them with an icy look, and causes something that is Not Frisk, lurking in the back of their mind, to whine and jitter. Sans takes his time to just stare, gathering his thoughts. When he eventually talks, his voice is more resonant than usual, a limb-freezing, echoing quality that is only viable if you have the whole of an empty skull to reverberate your voice around.  
     "What did you do?" His lazy pronunciation is clearer when he's angry. As he talks, the one good light in his eye flickers in and out.  
    Frisk makes a pathetic whimpering noise in their throat which gives away their underlying fear. They back away very, very slowly, like sudden movements will set the cold flame in his eye socket to burning. He waits statue-still for their answer. Making sure their hands don't shake, they begin to sign.  
    *Not me. It was my parent.*  
    "Your parent? Who-..? What d'you mean kid?" The echo in his tone is less audible, though it still sounds threatening.  
    *My blood parent. They died today. I saw them. Undyne...* Their fingers click as they worriedly wring their hands before continuing. Sans' eye-lights are both dimly present now.  
    *She thought they were a bad human. She fought them.*  
    Sans' expression has shifted from a glare to pure confusion, and perhaps a little bit of curiosity. "But. Uh. You sure? Other humans can't reset like you can, y'know? Otherwise we'd be repeating days all the time. It's-" He cuts himself off to watch Frisk's hands work.  
    *They did. I saw them. I didn't reset, didn't have time... I would have reset if... I'm sorry.* They look guilty and defeated, unusual expressions for the ball of sunlight they are. Sans feels guilt claw at his sternum too. He runs his hands over his skull and down his face, and when he looks up again his smile is back in place and his eyes glow properly. Like he just put a mask back on. Frisk begins to sign more explanations, but Sans decides that he needs to activate 'Dad Mode' as Toriel has dubbed it. He shuffles up to gently take Frisk's feather-light form into his arms, crosses his legs, and places the child on his lap so that they can face him enough to talk.  
    "I didn't know you had a parent, squirt. Why didn't you tell us?" Something dark crosses his face for a moment. "Are they a bad person?"  
    Frisk frantically shakes their head. *No! No, they are good. I love them. So much. But before the Underground, me being around made them sad. It hurt them.*  
    He looks angry again. Now that he is stable, his love for Frisk - for his little family's only child - is driving him into over-protectiveness. He guesses 'Dad Mode' isn't really that far from it.  
    "Frisk. No parent should resent their child. Remember, I know you pretty darn well. How could you hurt anyone?"  
    *They were made to give me away. I didn't belong to them. It hurt that I had to be away from them always.*  
    "Oh. Well, hey, if it hurt them to be away from you then, don't you think they'd want to see you now?" He hopes he has understood right. His thoughts go to Toriel for a moment. Would she be upset? He wonders if she already knows.  
    Frisk fidgets around to look at Sans better. *Can you help me?*  
    "Me? I don't think I'd be much help, buddy. What can I do?"  
    *Find my parent for me. I don't want to tell Toriel yet. She might be angry.* The child has read his mind. He's always amazed by their sensible nature. *Please? I can't find them alone. Please.*  
     "Well, I don't see why not. I did always imagine myself to be a great private eye-socket."  
    This has Frisk giggling, leaning to rest against Sans and press their face to his sternum while they shake silently. He finds himself laughing too, and he tips back to lie on the floor, Frisk resting on his chest. He takes in the safety of this room, this house, where he knows their laughter will have alerted Toriel downstairs, and he closes his eye sockets.

    He is awoken very gently by Frisk pawing at his shoulder. At some point, they must have taken a blanket from their bed and thrown it over him while he slept. Now, they are holding a piece of pink paper up for him to see. There's a rather accurate drawing of a person on it. They look a lot like Frisk, wearing the same baggy striped jumper. Sans recognises it as you immediately. Frisk signs your name.  
    "Oh. That's your parent? Ah..." He rests one hand on the back of his neck, running a phalange over the ridges of his vertebrae.  
    *You think you could find them from this?*  
    "I could, but I might not have to. I think I know 'em already."  
    *You know them? How?* They bounce eagerly on their knees.  
    "Work. I've seen them at one of my jobs." He neglects to mention that Toriel has him following you. It's a little ironic, mother and child both commissioning him to hunt down the same person.  
     *I don't want the others to know about them until I'm sure they want to be near me again... What should we do?*  
    "It's pretty ap _parent_ what we should do kiddo. We'll get them to come meet you, secretly." Frisk is nodding intently and grinning with sparkles in their big brown eyes. "It might take me a little while to be sure it's them though, so give me some time, yeah?"

     Sans intends to scope you out properly, before he decides to let you near Frisk. He won't have them hurt. They've been through more than enough already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans needs more hugs...
> 
> Would you look at that! I'm back for the holidays. Hellooooo my lovelies.  
> It would do me a huge favour if you guys would share my fic around a lil bit. It gives me a lot of motivation to see you guys enjoying it and sharing it. I want to see this all the way through to the end. And yes, I do have the full story planned out. Give me your feedback in the comments and tell your friends! <3  
> Mx


	10. Perseverance in Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which alliances are tentatively made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas and all that jazz!
> 
> *toots trombone*
> 
> (DISCLAIMER - This chapter has nothing to do with the human tradition of christmas.)

     A few days later you are still out of ideas for how to contact Frisk, and starting to lose hope. A feeling niggles at you that maybe you should just give up, live your life and let Frisk be happy without you. No. You won't just assume that they don't need you. You want to be sure that things are how they want them to be. That they are safe and sound with these (admittedly wonderful) strangers. You aren't afraid for their safety now, in fact, you might just be a little bit envious of them, but all the same it would be good to know for sure. You have one truly beautiful, bright thing in your life, and if you have to give it away you will at least be sure that it is cherished by those who take responsibility for it. You stamp out the negativity that clings to you with ease. 

     Today, you find your predictive powers gone. You only miss them for the increased reflexes they afforded you. Otherwise, you're glad to be rid of the weirdness. There's already enough going on without having to contemplate the possibilities of inheriting magic through proximity to monsters.  
     The work day moves quickly, to your relief. At the end of a refreshingly quiet shift, you step out into the chilly air to find the skeleton doorman fast asleep at work again. You call out his name - which you now know to be Sans thanks to Muffet - but he doesn't stir. You now have two options. You can leave him to sleep on the job, as would be the conventional course of action, and perfectly reasonable considering the way he has treated you recently; or you can trust in the words of your new friend Muffet and wake this 'harmless' monster.  
     Since you are not a conventional person in any circumstance, you decide upon the latter. You step up to him and squeeze his shoulder lightly. And of course, your inquisitive senses take in the feeling of the bone underneath the rich fabric of his jacket; the way it gives ever so slightly under your fingertips as you enclose the distinct joint of his shoulder, and that he gives off a subtle warmth compared to the evening air. He is very clearly alive, and not what you were expecting, though you aren't really sure what you thought a walking, talking skeleton would be like. He stirs and his eye sockets open as if he had eyelids. That doesn't make sense. File it under 'questions on the subject of monsters' for now. Little white lights flicker in the recesses of his sockets as he blinks and tips his head to fix you with a blearily questioning look.  
     "Oh. It's you." Although the statement seems in the same unfriendly growl as before, his sleepiness softens his tone. It gives you courage enough to keep going. You cross your arms and raise your brows, in Serious Parent Mode.  
     "You said that already. Is that how you greet people who are saving your boney behind from a disciplinary?" You wait just a little longer than needed before you allow yourself to smile, breaking the tension of your rhetoric. He laughs a single-syllable laugh and fumbles on his words, like he had forgotten his lines.  
     "Oh. Heh. Well, thanks for waking me up, kid. I'm sorry for being a lazy bones. Guess its gonna get me into trouble sooner or later, huh?" You giggle rather too loudly at the skeleton references, in elation at receiving more than a stunted sentence in response for a change. He gives you a strange look that could be a frown, or perhaps something else. Skeleton expressions are hard to read. His little bright pupils seem to stare right through you and they are far too mesmerising. Although you couldn't possibly discern how, his body language is gentler and more relaxed than it had been. He holds out his hand.  
     "Sans. Sans the skeleton."  
     "I'm ________. A pleasure to meet you properly this-..." You are cut off as you hold his hand to shake it. He tightens his grip and... Pthffbbffftttthhhh! Sans removes his hand from yours and shows you the squashed pink cushion taped to his palm. He's waiting with narrowed eye sockets to measure your response. For a moment you are speechless, mouth hanging open, before you bury your face in your hands in uncontrollable laughter. He leans back against the glass wall as he waits for you to calm down and allows himself a quiet chuckle at how flustered you are. When you eventually look up again, grinning and red cheeked, he looks rather proud of himself. You know a fake smile when you see one though, even on a skull. His dim eyes aren't lost on you and your detective's eye. At least he isn't being cruel now... In fact, it dawns on you that he is being unbelievably friendly, perhaps in an apologetic way.  
     "What made you change your mind about 'my kind' then?" You ask. It wouldn't do to let him off the hook just because he's being nice now.  
     "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I just... Oh hell." He rubs the back of his head awkwardly and scuffs at the floor with a shiny black shoe. "That was pretty awful, wasn't it? I'm sorry about that, buddy. Humans haven't exactly been the most generous species since we got here, you know? Some are just as threatening to the monster ambassador, a human, as they are to us." He watches the subtle twitch of your lip as he mentions your child, easily recognisable to him as concern on your expressive, malleable face. Humans are so easy to read.  
     You look down, apologetic for your species as a whole. "So I've heard... Compared to monsters, humans generally are rather unapproachable. Trust me, I dislike them as much as you do on the whole... I'm relived you changed your mind about me, though."  
     "I guess I did. You aren't so bad. At least you haven't asked for a selfie with the skeleton yet."  
     You exhale in disbelief. "Have people here been doing that?"  
     "Yeah. A lot. I'm sure my bro wouldn't mind but I'd prefer to be out of the spotlight."  
     "I can talk to my superiors about it if you'd like?" As you ask, Sans recognises the same little crease between your eyebrows that Frisk gets when they're on a mission.  
     "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm not an _aperture_ at dealing with humans." He grins. Your eyebrows shoot up in response. A pun, really? So that's why he has all your colleagues laughing.  
     "Let me know if you have any trouble, ok? I hope it settles down soon." You do your best to look serious despite the lopsided smile you are trying to control.  
     He nods, "Me too. Working here is just about bearable..."  
     After this, the conversation comes to a natural close, with you saying you'll see him around and reminding him not to fall asleep again. Sans seems more communicative, perhaps even chatty. You are impressed with the speed with which Muffet managed to carry out her offer of speaking to the skeleton. It certainly seems to have worked. What a breakthrough. You decide to go home, change into something nice and visit your favourite baker to thank her. Plus you could do with some tea.

~✿~

     "I had nothing to do with it." Muffet reassures you. You think she's being purposefully allusive, facing you with an approximation of raised brows while she leans with perfect poise on three elbows behind the counter. You sip your lilac tea and sigh, returning a disbelieving look.  
     "No really, I have to thank you. It worked so well. He talks to me like anyone else now."  
     "But I truly didn't do anything, my dear. I didn't have time to speak to Sans yet." She looks sincere, but it doesn't make sense.  
     "You really didn't? Then, what was it that changed his mind?"  
     "I haven't the faintest idea. Perhaps you just caught him on a bad day before? It does seem a little odd, but then that's Sans through and through - short and slightly odd."  
     You can't help but agree with a distracted nod. Though there is something about him, and monsters in general really, that sets your scientific mind to whirring with questions. Now really doesn't feel like the time to get a lecture from Muffet on monster biology though. You hum in thought.  
     "Well, at least that's one issue resolved. I couldn't visit Frisk though. I wimped out like an idiot child." You try to be positive and fail, so you release a groan and tip forward to rest your forehead heavily on the countertop. You don't like to put this all on Muffet. Don't like to rely on anyone to help you, really. But she doesn't mind as long as you buy something, and if anything she seems to take some pleasure in being involved. She's certainly nosy enough with her customers. She makes a sympathetic noise.

     You spend some time just lying there, face down. It's fine here, you don't really feel like you're moping in public. You feel like you are welcome to be you here. When you're around most monsters you don't feel like you're being judged all the time like you do with humans.  
     You manage to sit up and stare into your tea, and surreptitiously watch a very interesting trio of glistening monsters across the room. Two look like birds that stayed out in the snow too long, and one looks like a plant made of icicles, complete with melting droplets. The larger bird keeps cracking bad jokes, while the smaller, most likely a child, groans and complains half-heartedly. The third creature just sways contentedly. They seem like a family to you. You find yourself wishing that you could have that. Sit in this café with Frisk and their new family and Muffet. Be part of something that functions properly, that isn't just you. You sigh and slump onto the surface again, Muffet coming back from her pottering to lean in her usual place at the desk. She copies your sigh, resting her head in her hand in a melancholy manner. She's mocking you, but not in a cruel way, you think. She tips her head.  
     "What am I going to do, Muffet?" Your speech is muffled due to your face pressed to the wooden surface. She reaches to pat your shoulder.  
     "Perhaps you can find a new approach? Send a message through someone close to them?"  
     You look up. "Who? I don't know any monsters they are close to aside from M.K. I'm not dragging them into this. The only other options are their various minders, and I don't really think that's viable either."  
     "That's not entirely true. You may be closer to the solution than you think." She bites her lip with a sharp fang. You wait for her to expand on the statement. It's clear she's savouring her current hold over you and isn't going to tell you. You swat at one of her hands in a show of impatience, and she lets out that wavering laughter that you are coming to love the sound of. Monsters have this funny habit of making you smile after you thought you might have forgotten how. She finally gives in with taunting you.  
     "You already have someone close at hand who may be very useful to your cause. Your calcium colleague. He's one of the closest to our dear Ambassador."  
     Your face falls. "Oh no, no way. I can't ask him, Muffet. Not a chance. I'm pretty sure he's just humouring me now out of pity." You totally miss the accidental pun you have made, too busy trying to avoid admitting that you're just slightly threatened by a skeleton who is shorter and lazier than you. Something in the way he had spoken to you before had set off so many warning bells... although you don't have all that many other choices.  
     "I already told you my dear, he's harmless. It's your only option really, isn't it?" She voices your thoughts.  
     "I suppose you're right. I guess I can speak to him tomorrow? Yes. I'll do it. Don't let me back out of this one, okay?"  
     Muffet shrugs a response with all her hands raised. "I don't think you need me to coerce you. You have this one covered yourself."

     For the first time in a while, you truly believe it. You can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been uploaded in a hurry before work this morning so I'm sorry for and stupid editing mistakes.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my shitty transition chapter to the cool, dramatic, emotional stuff I have planned next chapter ;)


	11. Gravity Gets You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things thoroughly suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's stuck in bed with flu? This idiot.  
> At least it means I can get all this edited and ready for upload.
> 
> (I wrote this chapter while consuming ridiculous volumes of garlic bread. Don't judge me.)

     You awake at 3am. It's silent but you know why you're awake. It's the silence of someone trying to be quiet. There's something in your house, in your room. He came in through the mirror as if it were a doorway and he's reaching for you, all spindly fingers and distorted features. He's tall, so impossibly tall that he fills your field of view. He's speaking at you, while you're pinned to your headboard, numb bodied and voiceless; he's stolen your voice. He tries to use the sounds of it to talk to you, but it's coming out mangled like he doesn't know how the words fit together, and static fills the spaces between the syllables. The more you fail to understand, the louder he gets, the more his face splits and his oily black, formless body shudders sickeningly. It hurts your eyes to look, but you can't close your eyes. You don't want to know what happens if you do. Your mind is stuttering and full of noise and he is so upset. Urgent. You can't move, you can't help, you can't understand. With the angry buzzing rising to a crescendo in your eyes and ears, he places one huge, spidery hand to his chest. There's a perfect round hole bored straight through his palm. He moves his hand in a circular motion over his melting, shifting chest. You realise he's signing.  
     *Please.*  
    You try to reach your limbs, to make them react. But he's deforming, collapsing in upon himself. He looks so, so desperate. He keeps begging. The oil from his form sticks and strings to his pure white hand.  
    *Please. Please. Please, __...*  
    At the last moment, as he sinks into the floor, he begins to sign your name. 

     You wake up gasping and throw yourself upright. Your limbs are numb, but it is daytime. Light filters in in little beams around the bottom of your blinds. Wow. This is getting silly. You wonder what could possibly be causing these awful dreams. While you wait for the feeling to return to your limbs, you try to avoid looking at the long mirror at the foot of your bed too closely. Once you are fully functional again, you pad over gingerly to inspect it, almost daring it to try that bullshit again. Nothing. Obviously. It's just a mirror. You press on the glass with your hand, immediately feeling incredibly silly. It was a dream after all.  
     Your head is fuzzy all the way to work, even the fresh foggy air doesn't clear it. By the time you arrive though, the details of your nightmare have begun to fade in your memory. Sans isn't at the door when you arrive at the hotel - he tends to start a few hours later than you. Disappointed, you head inside. You'll have to ask him about Frisk later.

~✿~

     "Ah! No! Why?!"  
     Beautiful, gold-leaf edged plates clatter to the floor, shattering into minuscule pieces and finding their way under every nearby shelving unit. You sink to a crouch and rest your head in your hands whining in frustration. This isn't even the first time today you've broken something. Your limbs are just refusing to play along. The chef comes in from the other room and stares for a moment before she starts giggling and returns to work. At least someone thinks it's funny. You, however, are going to have to pay for those plates, as well as three crystal glasses from earlier in the day, and pay in humiliation as well. The world has a problem with you today apparently.

     This isn't even the end of your troubles. You are asked to go to the management office at the end of your shift. You walk the immaculate steps up to the door with apprehension grasping at you. The manager looks up with a gaze you really don't like the sight of. This is going to be bad.  
     They have you sit down, and then shift some papers on their desk until they find what they are looking for. A white envelope with your name on it.  
     "This is for you. I'm afraid, ________ that we are going to have to give you your notice. We've had to make some cutbacks..."  
     It takes you a moment to understand as you accept the envelope.  
     "You're. Wait, you're firing me?" You do your best to look thoroughly offended rather than upset.  
     The manager fiddles with a pen. "I'm afraid so. We have been given some affordability requirements to meet from the board. In order to achieve the target, we will be making some changes to how many part-time employees we take on. That's why this has impacted you." The manager is a calculating being of logic before you, one hand poised above the keyboard to type out your new status - 'Fired'. You know there's no point trying to appeal to them, but you try anyway.  
     "But I'm pretty much full time, I work here nearly four days a week."  
     "Part time workers are detrimental to our numbers. Unless you are comfortable with working here full time, then I'm afraid we can't keep you. I'm sorry."  
     You don't want to work full time. It would mean giving up the only job you actually enjoy, at the florists. You exhale heavily.  
     "No. It's fine. Thank you for letting me know." You stand a little abruptly, making sure the manager knows that it isn't fine, not at all.  
     "Thank you for your understanding. Your employment terminates immediately. You will receive a compensation payment with your final pay check tomorrow."  
     You leave carefully, focussing on outwardly controlling your frustration. No, not frustration. You are furious. You feel betrayed. You thought you were good at this job. You leave through the main entrance and avoid acknowledging the snoozing skeleton at the door. Your eyes are stinging and you won't be seen crying by him, or anyone else for that matter.

    You regret avoiding Sans by the time you get home. Since you're being fired, you won't have a suitable situation in which to approach him to ask him for help with contacting Frisk. You are also more than a little upset that what might have been another monster friend has been removed from your reach. 

     Late that night, after you return from a shift at your evening job at the bar, you stare vacantly at your computer screen. You click in and out of various sites, trying to find a distraction. Anything that might actually help, you don't have the mental energy for. You begin to search through job sites, looking for something interesting. Since you never went to university, the options aren't that great. Anything you choose, you'll have to start with minimum wage and work your way up. For now you have plenty saved, but that was meant for Frisk. You don't want to be living off the two part time jobs you have, you'll end up sapping your savings. You hide the page and open up your usual social media application. You haven't been online in weeks.  
     Your old best friend from school is online - Lottie. She was your only real friend until about a year ago, when you had just drifted apart. You were both busy people; you had Frisk to focus on, she had her new fiancé. You scroll back up the chat a little. The last messages are from when Frisk went missing - a couple of calls, some supportive messages from her. Reading them back brings all the panicked feelings from that time a few months ago back to you. The last one is her saying she'll be nearby if you need her, and promising to keep in touch. You snort in disdain and then feel bad. She probably didn't forget to talk to you on purpose.  
     You type out a greeting, and hover over the enter key. Maybe she doesn't want to hear from you? Maybe she's feeling like you're the one who neglected her. Before you can change your mind, you press the button.  
  
 _ _________:_  
     Hey_ 

     No response. Sort of what you were expecting. You leave the small desk in the corner of your room and go to make some tea. While the kettle boils, you hover your hands around it to try to warm them up a bit. For a few minutes you just lean against the counter with your tea, inhaling the steam to calm yourself. When you return to you computer there's a message waiting for you, to your surprise.

_**Lottie:  
Hi ________, it's been a while, how u doing? :)  
  
**     ________:  
I'm coping. You?  
_  
 _**Lottie:  
Doing ok :) Working hard as always. I saw Frisk on the news with those monsters.  
**_  
 _________:  
Crazy stuff, huh?  
_  
 _**Lottie:  
U ok with them being with them?  
**_  
 _________:  
Haven't got much choice right now. But the monsters themselves are great, I don't have a problem with them. Just wish I could get to see Frisk properly, you know?  
_  
 _**Lottie:**  
Ah that sucks dude. I hope u can see them soon :) x  
_  
 _________:  
_ Me too. Thanks x

     A noise like something falling off the table in the kitchen makes you look up. Speaking to Lottie doesn't really make you feel great anyway. She's trying to help but you can tell she's not really interested. You head into the kitchen. The light is on but nothing has fallen on the floor like you suspected. You guess you imagined it, and head over to the fridge to pick up the bowl of pasta you made yourself earlier. You glance at the clock as you turn off the light. 00:47. You shrug. You always get hungry late at night, so midnight dinner it is. When you return to your room, you find that Lottie is offline. She has left you a message.

**_Lottie:  
I gotta go dude, c u soon! xxx_ **

     You sigh. You know you won't see her soon, but you don't really have the capacity to be annoyed now that you have pasta to remove the bitter taste in your mouth. There are bigger things to be frustrated about. You put on an upbeat playlist while you eat, but it doesn't really help. Your shoulder muscles feel as though someone pushed a fork into them and twisted them up like spaghetti.

~✿~

     You avoid any nightmares tonight. Either that or you don't remember them. When you wake, it's still dark outside. Did you wake up early? You throw your blue paisley bedcovers back and step over to raise your blinds. Outside the sky is an intimidating bruised grey. It's looking like you feel. Good. You love storms. You are sick of looking for jobs, and since you now have the day off this is a good excuse to go for a walk. You pull on some vaguely waterproof, baggy trousers and a long navy blue jumper that comes down past your knees. You pull up the hood. Perfect.

     It's already raining, just occasional droplets. You gaze upwards once you have made your way to a place where you can see the sky properly. The real storm clouds loom over the inner city perhaps an hour away, not long until the thunder truly starts. You head in the opposite direction. Rather than your normal route into town you head away from the main streets. You vault a fence and make your away across a car park, heading towards the outskirts of the city. Here, the streets are narrow and cobbled, and now slick with rainwater. They reflect the neon signs of tiny takeaway stores and light up the area in beautiful spectrums of colour. Even though it's dim, you don't need a torch. You head in whichever direction takes your fancy. Finding your way back is part of the fun.  
     You just intend to wander until you're soaked through for the hell of it, daring your own body to get sick from doing so. When you are beginning to feel the cold, you come to a large plaza where a new club has recently opened up. The sign is huge, pink, neon, and written in spiralling cursive script that is impossible to read. It lights up the whole square. You stand under a tree to avoid some of the increasing wind and rain and just listen. You can feel the beat of the music through the floor more than you hear it. Perhaps some of the club is below ground? What time is it that a club would be open? You haven't looked at the clock all day. It's freeing, not having to think about your schedule at all.  
     When you start to shiver, you decide to move on before your legs go numb. Maybe just a little further. You choose a direction and get moving. The road you choose leads into an open space that isn't really a car park or a courtyard. There are trees growing on the other side of it, and beyond them you can't see any more buildings. Mt. Ebott and its twin are barely visible far beyond the forest. As you stare at the view, you hear a scuffle of footsteps to one side of you. You are alert instantly, but it turns out to just be a couple of monsters. You are yet to feel truly in danger whilst in close proximity to any monster, so you relax. They are heading towards a bar on one side of the space that you didn't notice before. Your mind had filed the light coming from it as the setting sun, since that's what it reminds you of now that you see it properly. The steady orange light of the sign proclaiming the place as _Grillby's_ throws a beautiful glow across the pavement and it catches your curiosity like a moth to a flame.

     You head towards the door...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I shall apply a Schrödinger's apology for the things I do:  
> Sorry / Not Sorry
> 
> [edit - I changed the way I write message conversations because it was bugging me]


	12. Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the storm breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The album Live At Grillby's by insaneintherainmusic is recommended listening for this chapter and the next, which will be up very soon since it was meant to be part of this one... I got carried away and wrote far too much because WE MIGHT FINALLY GET SOME (platonic) ACTION.
> 
> I would suggest starting the album on track 3 for the best atmosphere~
> 
> Or just use this handy link:
> 
> ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9TwwiLAk4GM#t=08m01s )

     A wave of warm light carries out the scent of woodsmoke and the sound of relaxed jazz with it as you open the door of the bar. You step across the threshold, pulling down your hood, and instantly realise how cold you are. The door shuts softly behind you as you stand in the entrance, entranced. A part of you wonders if all monster establishments are full to brimming with character and lovingly, perfectly furnished. From your experience, it certainly appears that way.  
     It feels like your favourite place all over again, just like Muffet's did. A scattering of monsters sit in enticingly comfortable looking booths and at round oak tables. The floorboards are polished and the brass light fittings give off just the right level of honeyed light. Barking laughter goes up every now and then from three bipedal dogs you think you might have seen in town before, who are playing a card game. There are cards all over the floor. The vintage jukebox in the corner sets the mood exquisitely. It just sings out to you that this is how bars should look. The centrepiece to you though, is the bartender.  
    He is beautiful. Most monsters are beautiful to you in truth, even the ones that are a little scary. But this one is aflame; a real, immaculately dressed fire elemental. He pushes his glasses up his... nose by way of greeting when he sees you looking. You smile awkwardly and realise you should probably stop gawping and order something. You hadn't intended to, but now you don't want to do anything else. You blame it on monster magic rather than a lack of self control.  
    The barstools are all empty, so you choose to sit there. You pick one on the side of the bar that half faces the rest of the room, so that you can people watch (of course). The bartender steps over to you and cocks his head to ask for your order. You lean to look up at the bottles behind him, though actually you could look _through_ him to see the rest of the shelves if you wanted. That doesn't seem polite though. Looking down the rows, hardly any of the drinks are ones you recognise. You hum.  
    "I've not been here before. Pick something out for me?" You wouldn't normally do something like that since you are a little picky about your drinks, but monsters are just incredibly good at this stuff somehow, and you trust him with the decision. He nods and as he turns away your mind notes that maybe you might possibly have a tiny bit of a taste for suits. Or monsters wearing suits, since you haven't ever really found yourself appreciating the way humans look in the same manner. There was a long time when you pretended to, when you thought you were broken and tried to make it seem like you weren't. Before you knew that it was okay to not find people attractive. 

     The barman returns with your drink in a small glass and uses simple hand signs to tell you the cost, which you weren't expecting. It makes you smile as you give him the money. Your hand touches his palm as you drop the coins into it and you find that it has some substance to it, and it isn't quite as hot as a normal flame. Just cool enough to be bearable. So perhaps that's how he can wear a suit?  
     You can't help but ponder the hand signs he used. You feel a little rude, but your inquisitive streak gets the better of you. You make the signs to ask him if he's deaf. Perhaps he had been reading your lips when you spoke to him before? He tips his head a little, which appears to be one of his few methods of expression. He seems surprised, possibly. He signs back that no, he's mute. His signs are gentle and flowing, and rather than having to move his fingers, he just changes the shapes of his entire hands at will. It's more than a little enthralling. You tell him that your child is mute as well, and he is about to respond when the duo of monsters than you followed into the establishment come up to the counter. One is an entirely red, horned monster and behind them there is a squat brown mouse trailing a long striped scarf. The red one speaks up.  
     "Hey Grillby, how's business?" The bartender - Grillby, apparently - gives an apology and turns away to serve his customers. You watch as he communicates easily with them, hardly signing. Perhaps all monsters can read body and sign language this well. Or maybe it's some form of telepathy? It strikes you that you don't know anything about monster education. Or anything else, really. You wish you had someone you could ask.  
     You turn to your drink. It's honey coloured, and a glittering gold layer of bubbles floats on the top of it. The little glass is warm in your hands. You prepare yourself for the inevitable wonder you are about to experience and take a tentative sip. It's somewhere between mulled wine and mead. Honey, cinnamon and fruity qualities which feel like an internal hug. Absolutely spot on for this weather. You don't miss that Grillby is watching you with the sly sideways glance of an experienced barman, so you give a contented sigh to show your approval.

~✿~

     You sit for perhaps an hour, by which time your clothing and hair is dry. You have made a list of possible jobs on the back of a card drinks coaster. In between thinking up ideas and sipping your drink, you simply soak up the atmosphere. You should probably head home. You really wish you could just stay here. Or perhaps you could migrate from here to Muffet's bakery and then back again? If only it were acceptable to sit here at the bar and watch the monsters coming and going. Hey, here's an idea. You lift a hand to catch Grillby's attention. Using signs makes you feel closer to Frisk, so that's how you speak to him.  
     *It's lovely here. I wondered if you had any jobs available?*  
     His signing ability is far neater and more elegant than yours as he replies. *I'm afraid not. Sorry.*  
     You smile. *Thank you anyway, friend.*  
     You stand to leave, only slightly disheartened. At least you aren't too far away from the place. You make your way to the door. It looks as though you won't be going home after all. The storm is in full force, but the sound had been masked by the jukebox and the talk of the patrons. You open the door just enough to slide out and keep the warmth in.

     You stand, back pressed to the wall beside the door, protected by the lip of the porch roof over the entrance, while the wind rips back your hood and bites at your cheeks. You don't care. Your skin stings in the contrast from the warmth you just left behind, and you feel alive. Thunder rolls from all edges of the horizon and your entire being tingles with the energy of it. The sky is purple-black and swirling with clouds. The next thunder clap is deafening, and you hoot with laughter. You are truly laughing for the first time in months, your grin hurting your face. Ceraunomania, it's called. A maddened desire to stand beneath the storm. Beneath this force you feel free and energised and formless and nothing else matters.  
     When you find the capacity to tear your gaze from the sky, you notice you aren't alone in enjoying the storm here. Two other people are in the courtyard. In the entrance of the alleyway you came from earlier is a tall figure, far too tall to be human you think, in a sodden black coat that makes them almost invisible apart from their face. It hurts to try to focus on them in the dim light. They are staring straight up at the clouds, probably enjoying the rain drumming down upon their face. The other figure is drawing nearer beneath a big red umbrella. After a moment or two, you recognise the slumped shoulders and bony hands. It's Sans. You find yourself perhaps more elated by his appearance here than you should be. He wears a blue jacket with the hood pulled up, and he's moving slowly. He's heading this way with his eyes almost closed, apparently listening to the storm and the rain upon his canvas shield. His smile is natural and serene like you've never seen it. He has yet to notice you.  
     The skeleton takes until he's barely feet from you before he sees you standing there. He doesn't really acknowledge you other than a small nod, but that's fine right now. He takes down his umbrella and comes to stand beside you beneath the shelter.  
     "Hey." His voice is infused with tranquility, barely a whisper. You wait for a roll of thunder to pass before you reply just as gently.  
     "Hi, Sans."  
     It's okay not to make small talk. There's an unspoken sentiment that you both share, that you are quite happy floating in silence, enjoying the rain. The company is nice, though. You release a deep breath. You can just sense his presence at your side. He's slightly shorter than you, and sturdy. He breathes very slowly. You think that maybe you prefer this side of him to the joking, fake-smiled one. You want to know why he doesn't smile properly, but you know that's not a question you have the right to be asking. You've only known him a week or so, although... it doesn't feel that way. With most of the monsters you've met, you have found that you learn their personalities faster, understand them better, and on the whole they are easier to talk to. Muffet already feels like perhaps your closest friend despite the short time you've known each other.  
     Since you can't say what you'd like to, you try something he's more likely to answer.  
     "A lot of humans are afraid of storms. I suppose you didn't have them below ground? You're not afraid?"  
     Sans gives his usual short laugh that sounds like 'heh' and you think he might not give you a proper response. Eventually he answers though. "You aren't afraid either. It's nothing to be scared of. It's... nice to be able to see it for real." He sounds wistful, and you feel sudden empathy for all monsters, having been stuck in a cave without stars, storms or sunshine. That lifestyle has to take its toll on your mindset... Maybe that's why he's the way he is? Something dawns on you in a stab of recognition. You look at him, studying the way his tired eyes flick to watch the horizon light up.  
     "Is this the first storm you've ever seen?"  
     "Yeah. We got rain in the Underground, kinda. But not like this. This is somethin' else." He avoids returning your gaze by mostly closing his eyes. It's strange to you that a skeleton is capable of having dark rings beneath his eye sockets like he does.  
     "I'm... glad I'm not the only one enjoying it."  
     The sentiment isn't really what you want to say, but you can't find the right words to apologise for the things done to his race. It's just too big for you alone. A pang of hatred for humans stirs, for doing this to such a beautiful race of creatures. Even this one beside you now is better than the majority of humans, despite his earlier rudeness.  
     Sans props his umbrella against the doorframe and turns to head inside. As an afterthought he turns back to you, holding the door open. His voice is low, like maybe he's unsure of himself.  
     "Do you... uh. You coming in?"  
     Have you already had a drink today? Yes. Have you just been all but invited for a drink by a monster? Yes. Obviously you are going to go back inside. Obviously.  
     "Sure. I'll buy you a drink?"  
     He looks a little wary.  
     "That's alright, I have a tab."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to just make an observation on reader here. Reader, similarly to myself, is grey-asexual but highly empathic, with the capacity to understand and relate to people very well. In the right circumstances, they are capable of some level of emotion associated with attraction.  
> Case study: I have a huge platonic crush on several gorgeous people, whilst having absolutely no need to pursue anything sexual. It's kinda frustrating when people misinterpret it... I just want snuggles, ok. Like. Loads of snuggles.


	13. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you are a deductive genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had to spend a couple of chapters in Grillby's because I love it there so much. Also, it's recommended that you continue listening to Live at Grillby's as with the last chapter, starting with track 6 for this chapter!
> 
> (I lied about the prompt upload time for this chapter)

     You return inside, following your acquaintance. Grillby looks up from dusting bottles and signs you a 'welcome back', to which Sans replies, not realising the greeting was meant for you. You shrug and sign a response to Grillby, amused at Sans' lack of awareness. Sans makes his way to the bar and sits at one end of the counter not far from your seat from earlier, so you take up the same seat again, facing him at a right angle over the corner of the bar where it curves. Grillby raises his hand to Sans in something that isn't really a sign, since it's too brief, but Sans clearly understands just fine and nods. Grillby then turns to you, and signs in a more pronounced fashion;  
     *Same again?*  
    You reply in sign, hoping Sans doesn't notice you doing it so that you can surreptitiously buy his drink before he turns it down. *Yes please. And I'll pay for his too.*  
    Grillby pushes up his glasses in acknowledgement. Sans has noticed your signing, of course. He's looking at you with the oddest expression that you can't begin to fathom. You don't know how long he just stares, broad shoulders hunched, lost in thought, but you take the opportunity to do the same rather than make conversation. You study his jaw, his cervical vertebrae and clavicle just visible above his shirt, the differences between his skeleton and a human one. He stirs, perhaps about to break what should have been an awkward silence, but Grillby breaks it first by returning with another serving of the mulled mead and a glass bottle of something red which he gives to Sans.  
    "Put it on my tab, Grillbz." He rumbles, facing the barman with his ever-present grin.  
    Grillby raises a hand to dismiss him, and indicates to you. The skeleton fixes his grin on you instead, and something makes you think that maybe it's more of a grimace. He doesn't properly look at you when he talks.  
    "Uh, you sure? You really don't have to do that, kid. I can look after myself."  
    You wave him into silence. "Seriously, it's on me. I'm happy to."  
    "Thanks, buddy." He finally gives in. He seems more guilty than he should be for letting you buy him a drink. He twists the cap off the aforementioned drink and puts it to his teeth. It makes a loud 'clink' against them. The sound breaks your daze and you realise that this is the kind of situation in which people normally feel uncomfortable, but you have totally failed to. You aren't particularly bothered by the shortage of conversation.  
    Your eyes drift to the bottle in Sans' hand as he lowers it to the counter. It's... ketchup. Of course, because that's probably a totally normal thing for monsters to drink. Yes. Absolutely. Your peripheral vision registers that Sans is watching you closely as he raises the bottle to his mouth again, pointedly locking eyes with you. Your mind tries to maintain control over the silliness of the situation, but your face betrays you and you begin smiling. You let out a little snort-laugh as you try to stop your smile with your hand, but you give up trying when you pick up on how your amusement causes your companion to visibly relax. You allow yourself to break into exaggerated laughter, satisfied by how the tension in Sans' rigid shoulders softens. Looking at the bottle, you finally come up with something to say.  
    "I gotta _Heinz_ it to you, I wasn't expecting that." You get exactly the reaction you wanted. Sans stares disbelieving from you to the bottle, then back again, before his mask falls and it's his turn to laugh. Not a forced single syllable laugh like before, but a rolling chuckle. It's warm and a little wheezy. You rather like it.

    Sans relaxes a little. He's been enjoying observing you, your silly little human quirks that are starting to make him realise where Frisk got their colourful personality. There's a difference though. Your colours seem muted. He can sense a veil over your soul even from this distance, and it isn't down to modesty. Thinking about Frisk, he remembers what he offered to do, and the reason he invited you into Grillby's with him. He should say something. He desperately wants to shake the guilt he's feeling too; he felt bad just for letting you buy him a drink he didn't deserve. He needs to explain why he ever met you in the first place. He has too much of a conscience to lie to you about it, but he knows you'll leave in disgust as soon as he tells you. 

     "...Sans? Did you hear me? Are you okay?" You stop his train of thought and he opens his eyes. You hadn't realised he wasn't paying attention to what you were saying until his posture began to tense up again. You'd thought you had been doing quite well with getting him to relax. His dim pupils focus on you.  
    "Sorry. I was thinkin' about something. Say again, bud?" He sounds distant to begin with, but he pulls on a big false smile and steadies his voice. How frustrating.  
    "I was just wondering, shouldn't you be working? It's five thirty." You motion to the wall clock.  
    His eyes flicker. "Oh, yeah, I guess I should be." He surely knows that isn't a good enough answer, but he sidesteps.  
    "Are you skipping work already? Sans, you just started. I mean. I have no right to be saying this but if you aren't careful, they'll fire you. They are making cutbacks to their staff."  
    "So I heard. They fired you, right?"  
    You sigh with a bit of a growl of annoyance in your throat. "Yeah. I was part time so I was 'unaffordable'. So you have to be careful, at least until they stop monitoring you as a new employee."  
    He's looking down at the wooden texture of the bar, fist clenched on the surface. "Thanks for worrying, but..." He fixes you with a look that's so void of hope that it hurts. You want to say something comforting but you feel like he's close to revealing something about himself that's actually honest, and you don't want to stop him.  
    "Well. You don't have to worry about me gettin' fired. I quit."  
    Your heart sinks a little, and it's clearly visible in your expression. "Oh, Sans, why? I thought you made an excellent doorman."  
    Sans laughs uncomfortably and puts a hand to the back of his skull, making you think you must have overstepped a social line and embarrassed him, so you struggle to rectify your mistake.  
    "I mean, I thought it suited you pretty well, but if you didn't like it, that's okay. I'm sure you can find something else. Is it too much interaction with humans for you? Were the staff being rude to you?" Your voice raises as you begin to get passionate in defence of monsterkind. "Because if so, monster of not, that isn't legal, they can't treat you like-.."  
    "No, ________, that's not it. Really kid, calm down. It's alright." He holds up both his hands to stop you before your annoyance gets out of hand. Such a shame, he thinks, that he has to ruin the unwarranted support you are giving him by letting out the truth of his dishonesty. Better now than later, though.  
    "Listen. I didn't quit because of the job. It was good enough. But... I wasn't there for me, y'see. I..." He grumbles, rubs a hand over his face, and stands up from his barstool ready to give you room to leave. The frown on your face deepens and you shift your body language to appear more submissive, thinking that he's angry with you for bringing up something personal.  
    "I was there on a request from someone else. I was only workin' at that hotel because... you were." Your confusion is painfully apparent. "Someone hired me to keep an eye on you. A friend of mine was worried about you because they thought you might be... stalkin' Frisk. I-it wouldn't be the first time humans have got too interested, y'know, and..." He trails off totally. He looks defeated, unable to find any words to justify his actions. He waits, feeling as disgusting as the liar he is, prepared for your inevitable outrage. He can read nothing from you.  
    You sit back in your seat, blank-faced, making calculations at quite a rate before it drops into place. Recognition brightens your eyes and you make a noise in revelation.  
    "Queen Toriel? She hired you to follow me? It was her, correct? It has to be her." Sans is taken utterly aback by your fast deduction.  
    "H-how did you know?"  
    "I tried to visit Frisk at the Queen's home." You purse your lips as you continue to put pieces together. "You probably knew about that already, didn't you?"  
    Sans grimaces. "Yeah. Uh. That was when she got hold of me..."  
    You break into amazed laughter. "That's brilliant. I'm impressed she would do a thing like that to protect Frisk, and so quickly too." You are actually feeling a lot of respect for Toriel now, knowing how far she's willing to go to keep them safe. She's even more paranoid than you. It doesn't really occur to you that your reaction to the whole situation is a little unorthodox. It dawns on you that you should explain this whole stupid mess. It's as good a chance as any to set things straight, and you hope with every fibre of your being that Sans understands. Right now he's mostly looking stunned, with his mouth slightly open and his eye-lights small, and he's apparently unable to speak due to that fact, so you take the moment.  
    "Look, Sans, sit down. Please? Sans?" You wait for him to cooperate, which he manages to do after a long delay. "Now. This is all a bit difficult, and under the circumstances I can understand why Toriel would think I was trying to get to Frisk. That is to say, I was. But I wish she had given me time to explain things. I'm not going to hurt Frisk, I would dare. They... they are my child. Biologically speaking." It has taken less effort than you had expected to finally say it, but Sans' reaction isn't quite what you were expecting either. He looks a lot less surprised than he did before. He blinks and finds his voice when you wait quietly for a conclusion.  
    "I actually... knew that already. The other day, when I stopped treatin' you like human garbage? Yeah. Sorry about that. Well, Frisk's the reason for that. I trust Tori, and I was sure you really were some fanatic ambassador-stalker, but Frisk set me straight. They want to see you. So I guess... you know all of it now. I'm sorry about being a huge bonehead."  
    You are smiling, no pretence or exaggeration. You hold Sans with a gentle gaze to be sure he registers your gratitude. "It's no problem. This clears things up quite a lot. Thank you for being honest with me, Sans. I had wanted to say something about my situation, but... I guess I was a bit intimidated."  
    "Welp. I was pretty threatenin' before. I don't have any excuses." He laughs nervously.  
    "It's fine, really. It's all forgiven already. We were both idiots and that's the end of it. But maybe. You could repay me?" Sans nods intently, absolutely amazed by your forgiving nature. It calms his nerves as he begins to realise that you, Frisk's biological parent, are a kind human just like them, and he has no reason to keep you apart from them. He can't wait to see the look on Frisk's face. What has that child done to him to make him capable of looking forward to something like this? He doesn't know, but he sure as hell likes the feeling.  
    "I know exactly how to make this up to you. It's gonna take a while - I don't think tellin' Tori about you is a great idea yet, but... I'll find a way to get them to meet you. Okay?"  
    You are elated. "I'll leave it up to you. You do this for us, and I'll be in your debt forever, my skeleton friend." You correct yourself, making sure you haven't overstepped again. "Wait, only if you want to be friends. Is that alright?" He chuckles at this.  
    "Sure it's alright, friend." He stands up, pulling his phone from his pocket. As suits him so well, it's an ancient flip-up silver one. "Gimme your number. So that I can keep you updated."  
    Your fingers remember how to use a phone this old, and you input your contact details: 

      Mad ________ xxxxx-xxx-xxx

      He reads the entry and his face contorts a little. "Mad? I don't think you're that crazy. Maybe just a little, but-.."  
    You laugh, "No, it's a name Frisk came up with. A step between mum and dad. Mad, see?" You form the sign for it with all the fingers of one hand pointed at the side of your head, and make a small circular motion with your hand. Sans' eyes follow the motion and the lights in his sockets brighten.  
    "That's smart. Trust them to come up with somethin' like that, huh?"  
    You giggle. "It is pretty clever. Plus it works as a handy codename."  
    "Thanks kid. This is all gonna work out somehow, I'll see to it."

~✿~  

     When you get home from your escapades, you find that Sans has messaged you so that you have his number.

    **_???:  
hey. it's sans._**

     You save his number under the nickname 'Blue' after the jacket he was wearing today. You give everyone nicknames in your contacts list, and they change whenever the whim takes you.   

     ________:  
_Hey Sans! You home now?  
_  
    _**Blue:  
nah, still at grillby's. you get home ok?**  
_  
     ________:  
_Mhm. It's pretty cold at home compared to the bar!  
_**_  
__Blue:  
keepin the place warm's easy when you're that hot.  
_**_**speaking of. grillbz wanted to ask if you'd like to come in for a trial shift here.**  
  
    _  ________:  
_Whaaat, really? Oh gosh, I'd love to! Thank you Grillby!_  
      _When shall I come in?  
_  
      _ **Blue:  
tuesday 12pm alright for you?**  
_  
     ________:  
_Absolutely!  
_  
__**Blue:**  
**cool. but, y'know, not.**  
  
  
   You snicker. What a discovery you have made. Apparently all monsters make wonderful allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave me a comment, I really appreciate your opinions~


	14. For Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are stars and silver linings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly did everything I could to stop this chapter from getting this long, whilst maintaining the flow of everything. It couldn't be done any other way so this is what you're getting. I'm sure none of you are complaining about the nearly double-length chapter.  
> Yes, we're still at Grillby's. But who cares? It's nice here.

     You have spent the last few days waiting with nervous excitement for your trial shift. Today, it's finally here. You leave home early, dressed in neat black trousers and a waistcoat over a white shirt, similar to what you remember Grillby wearing. You grab your favourite smart jacket as an afterthought. It's long and black, with double-breasted buttons and a high collar, perfect for making good impressions. First, there's a detour to check in with Muffet and pick up an assortment of snacks for the day ahead. Then you take your time to determine the easiest route to the bar. The glow from the establishment is just as inviting as you remember in the dim winter daylight.

     Grillby shows you the ropes, indicating the most popular drinks and giving you a hand-written price list to memorise. For today, he just wants you to watch and learn, since he tells you he has faith in your ability to communicate with customers. He mentions how hard it is for the majority of humans to understand some monsters with their varying ways of communicating, himself included, and says he is relieved that you don't have any trouble with it.

     So far it has been much busier today than the first time you came in. You are trying your hand at serving on your own, and are listening to a tiny... volcano? They are shyly listing off a drinks order for their booth full of similarly miniature fire creatures. You are writing out the order, encouraging the monster by keeping your tone gentle and light, speaking their requests back to them. You twist back and forward to locate the correct bottles and try to remember how each magical beverage is served. Grillby is nearby, watching patiently. If you get stuck with something he signs gently to remind you, often accompanied by an encouraging nod.

     Already, you have come to realise that most of the monsters have a favourite drink that they will order every time. It shouldn't be long before you have each monster memorised, and serving customers will be all the easier. Unlike humans, the monsters don't get exasperated if you aren't sure how to fulfil their order, and they enjoy helping you learn.  
     You finish pouring the drinks for the volcanic monster, who has introduced themselves as Vulkin in their endearingly soft, bubbling voice. Since the creature has no arms, you place the assortment of glasses and bottles on a tray, making sure to put a straw in Vulkin's drink, and offer to carry the tray to their table. They accept, and you find yourself smiling widely as you follow their bobbing gait back to the booth. As you head over and begin to set the drinks down, the noise volume in the bar increases and makes you look up. It's Sans. As he enters, the little place ripples with greetings and friendly remarks. Every monster seems to know him. He waves lazily to the regular canine troupe, greets one or two people with a big smile, and sits in his solitary seat at the counter.  
     You head back to your post behind the bar and wipe down your tray, watching Sans talk with Grillby out of the corner of your eye. He looks shattered, you realise. That is to say, although he has looked tired every time you have seen him, and it's the norm to find him snoozing, he looks absolutely wiped out today, stress darkening every feature. He stares into his drink with a glazed expression. Oh. His drink is different today. What is that, you wonder.  
     A gentle warmth to your left alerts you that Grillby is standing nearby. He has moved away from Sans and is doing an excellent job of pretending to be focussed on drying glasses while he watches from a distance as you have been. When Grillby dries glasses, he just runs his hands over them until the water has mostly evaporated. It's very _handy_. You roll your eyes at your own private pun and focus back on your boss. He's still contemplating Sans. Is that concern? It's hard to tell with Grillby. You move over to stand beside him, and pick up a cloth to begin polishing the glasses he has dried.  
     "Is he okay?" You ask as quietly as possible.  
     Grillby turns so he's facing you, using his torso to hide the majority of his signs from Sans' view, though the skeleton isn't looking anyway.  
     *I'm never sure, being honest. He has his days.*  
     You pull a sympathetic face and respond in sign, so that your conversation can't be overheard. *He looks pretty tired. And no ketchup?*  
     *A Bloody Mary. You'll notice he only drinks them on the bad days.*  
     *Should I leave him be on days like that?*  
     He shrugs. *You might prefer to. Haven't ever found much that can be done to help his moods.* So Grillby has known Sans a long time? Even after only a few hours working here, you're beginning to catch on to the subtler body language that is communication amongst many of the less humanoid monsters. Grillby would appear to most to be his usual self, maintaining his spotless workspace with care and poise. But now you begin to notice differences. He holds his shoulders forward slightly when he's deep in thought, and tips his head when he's listening to a conversation nearby. If something frustrates or upsets him, his posture tenses up in a fashion even more elegant than usual. Right now, he's taking more time than needed to dry each vessel, and his habit of fiddling with his glasses is becoming more pronounced. He's agitated.  
     *G. You are worried about him.* You take the steaming glass from his hand with the cloth in yours, so that he has to focus on you a moment.  
     *Indeed.* The spots of bright flame that form his eyes flicker beautifully as he studies you. *Do you know why I changed my mind about you?* You shake your head. *Just that. You did it right there. You pick up on the sort of things that matter. Thank you for that. A kind human is a rare treasure.*  
     You feel your face heat up, and not from just the proximity of the elemental. You have no idea how to react to compliments apart from to physically hide from them, and you are attempting to find something to say, but Grillby saves you from your own awkwardness.  
     *You have the job. We'll work out your rota at the end of each week. Does that suit you?*  
     Your reddened cheeks dimple with your smile. You forget to sign as you answer; "That's perfect! Yes. Thank you so much, Grillby! I already love working here." A bubbling energy rises in your chest, and you can't stop the stupid grin on your face. You feel like a child. Or perhaps that isn't quite right. You feel like yourself, but the way you used to be. Like somehow you have recovered a part of whatever it was that the world had tried to stamp out of you.

~✿~

     The positive energy you didn't think you were capable of carries you through the evening. You don't make a single mistake, and you are learning fast. Your feet don't even hurt after standing for so long. You have just finished serving a dog who looks about as elated as you feel, when Grillby comes over to stand beside you.  
     *You have done well today. Do me one more job and you can head home.*  
     "Certainly. What can I do?"  
     Grillby indicates towards the end of the counter. Sans has fallen asleep there, after perhaps one too many Bloody Marys. Does alcohol even affect monsters in the same way? More questions for the list.  
     *Make sure he gets home safely.*  
     You nod once, assurance in your eyes. "I'll make sure. See you tomorrow?"  
     *Tomorrow.*

     You gather your things from the back room and pull on your jacket, buttoning it up fully - now that it's late, it'll likely be freezing outside. Sans is breathing heavily in his sleep, and frowning. You reach out and squeeze his shoulder and he jumps awake, bolt upright. He's got you feeling sorry for waking him just from his expression. You keep hold of his shoulder to ground him, in case he was having a nightmare. Smiling softly, you tell him you're going to walk him home.  
     "Uh... No that's-.." His voice is heavy with sleep and gravelly. Cute. "Y'sure?"  
     By way of an answer, you turn as if you were going to leave and offer your arm for him to take hold of. He struggles from his seat and lands heavily, walking beside you, but he doesn't take your arm.  
     It's foggy outside, but not particularly cold. The fog forms little halos of brilliant colour around every neon light. You walk in silence, and Sans cranes his head to pick out the first stars of the evening whilst you try to come up with something both inconsequential and uplifting to talk about to lighten the mood. There aren't many truly uplifting things in your current sphere of existence, except perhaps... Ah, that might just do it.  
     "How's Frisk?" You ask with as little weight as you can so that he doesn't assume you're trying to hurry him along with helping you.  
     "They're good. Settlin' in enough to start making friends, human as well as monster ones. They're really happy living with Tori-... uh. But. I know they must be missin' you." He's bracing for a response like he said something wrong. And yes, maybe it does sting a little that Frisk is happy with someone else, but you're used to that feeling by now.  
     "Don't worry. I'm happy for them. It's good to know they're in safe hands."  
     "They are. Tori's really protective." He speaks as if perhaps Toriel is a close friend of his, though it's hard to imagine him having close friends. He's the sort to keep people at arm's length.  
     "I've seen her protectiveness first-hand. She can be rather scary." You smile to be sure the comment isn't taken as an insult. Sans chuckles. Thinking of Toriel, you realise that the route you are heading through town is the same direction as Frisk and Toriel's house, towards the slightly more expensive end of the district. You wonder - or hope - that you might walk past their house on the way to take Sans home. You don't realise how long you've been pondering this until Sans speaks up. You totally broke the conversation didn't you? You aren't good at small talk.  
     "Why didn't you take Frisk back when we first came Aboveground?" Sans asks. Well, that certainly isn't small talk, and neither is it easy conversation. You clear your throat.  
     "Hm? Oh. Well, they aren't my child legally. I-..." You sigh. This subject is awkward and it always makes you feel guilty, and you really don't know Sans well enough to be speaking to him about it. But he's just waiting patiently for a response, so you have to answer.  
     "They have been in foster care their whole life, the same as I was when I was younger." You can tell from his expression that he doesn't know what that is, so you explain. "They are looked after by other humans who have been deemed fit to care for them, along with other children like them. By human laws, I don't have any right to have them live with me."  
     Sans looks simultaneously confused and appalled. "But you said they're your child, biologically. How can you not have the right to look after your own child?"  
     You pull the shoulder straps on your backpack anxiously. You hate this. There isn't any easy way to explain that you have been judged too useless to care for your own child. Sans obviously picks up on the fact that you're uncomfortable.  
     "Hey, if you don't wanna tell me, it's alright. I shouldn't've brought it up."  
     "No. If anyone should know the whole story, it's probably the one trying to help us both out." You take a breath to clear you mind of the suffocating shame you're feeling. "Frisk was born when I was too young to be able to care for them myself. I was in foster care already, since I don't have any relatives who could have cared for me properly. So they were taken and put into the foster care system. If I want to try to get them back, I have to be in a stable enough position to look after them."  
     You really don't want to admit this last part. "Last time I applied for custody of Frisk, I was monitored and tested and told that I wouldn't be able to support them properly, financially or emotionally. That was about two years ago. So..." You don't intend to say anything else - he can work out the rest of the story himself. He's gone quiet, and you are thankful that he hasn't said anything to the notes of pity you are used to. It's somehow more degrading when people do that. You can't do anything with pity. 

     Intending to root around for your phone so that you can hide behind it, you pull your bag from your shoulder. Everything suddenly feels a lot better when you discover the pastries you bought from Muffet this morning. There are two left - a cupcake and a doughnut. You pull out the paper bag and offer it to Sans, who chooses the doughnut. It has a glistening pink glaze on it. You take the cupcake, which has a spiral of lilac icing (now squashed) and tiny silver icing strings in a web pattern on top. Unsurprisingly, as Sans inspects his cake, a probably impolite question about skeletons comes to mind. This mental list is getting too long, so you may as well ask just one question, right?  
     "How do you eat?" The question feels ridiculous as soon as you've said it. Sans raises a brow bone of his miraculously malleable skull and begins to take an agonisingly slow bite of the doughnut.  
    "Like that." He's pretending to be serious, but he can't help himself but laugh at your unimpressed expression. You tut and roll your eyes.  
    "You know that isn't what I meant."  
    "Let's just say it's 'cause of magic." He lifts his free hand into the air extravagantly.  
    "Come on. Not good enough. Do you even know how it works yourself?"  
    "Sure I do."  
    "I don't believe you."  
    This gets the response you wanted. You've poked at his pride and he bites.  
    "Ok, fine. So humans physically digest food since their bodies need a lot of nutrients, right?"  
    He's speaking slowly as if explaining to a child. You nod. "Monsters don't need to. We don't need anywhere near as much energy to sustain our forms, since we're held together by magic which is absorbed from our surroundings as well as what we eat." He turns to check you're following. You frown.  
    "Does normal human food have a magic content then?"  
    "Sure, but not as much as food made by monsters. You've noticed how the taste of monster food isn't somethin' human food could replicate? Food made by a monster is infused with their personal variety of magic. It's better eating for us magical creatures. And it's designed more for the enjoyment of eating rather than for sustenance."  
    You find that this, while answering a question you had yet to think of, also provides you with more questions about magic.  
    "Interesting. That still doesn't explain _how_ you eat."  
    Sans seems impressed at how well you're keeping up.  
    "Oh. So, rather than a long chemical process that retains the important components for use in the body - as in humans and other physical beings - monsters instantly dissolve the physical substances and discard them by effectively exhalin' them. It's a bit different for each monster, since we're all so varied anatomically speakin'. The magical energy can be used straight away." When he talks like this, he loses his lazy drawl almost completely. His voice begins to take on a new, richer quality, and his eyes light up. He's noticed your gaze. "That answer it for you then, science kid?" When you nod, his stock grin widens mischievously. "My turn then." He moves a little closer, and extends an ivory finger, catching you off-guard while you try to work out what he means. He just pokes you. On the cheek. You splutter out a shocked laugh.  
    "Why?!"  
    "For science."  
    You look totally offended at his mockery of your research. Up until you return the poke. His 'skin' gives a tiny amount under your finger, and has a texture like nothing you've ever felt; smooth like ceramic, but warm, soft, and with imperfections like human skin would have. He freezes and his eyes go wide at the contact. You pull away sharply, thinking he's angry, but he bursts out laughing at your response. The laugh is genuine and contagious, the dark cloud over his aura dissipated.  
    Unguarded, you laugh along with him until you feel your face heat up with embarrassment. You pull up your high collar around your jaw, and Sans falls abruptly quiet. When you have calmed enough to look at him, his eyes are trained on the ground. He's probably embarrassed too.

~✿~

     At the end of your journey, it turns out that Sans lives only a minute or so away from Frisk and Toriel. The two enviable houses are just out of visible range from each other. Sans' house, similarly to Toriel's, is a dainty detached cottage. To your surprise, there are rainbow string lights draping over the window ledges and along the roof of the wooden porch shelter. The garden is well kept and especially colourful for this time of year. It looks like a gingerbread house in the dusky light. It's perfect, and you make sure to inform your companion of this. Sans gets flustered and mutters about it 'not being much'. You really didn't imagine this glittering haven as the sort of place Sans would live. It's just so quaint and neat. But you're happy for him all the same. Whatever negativity it was in his past that has made Sans the way he is now, your intuition tells you that he deserves a warm, safe place to live.

     In a first floor window, a pale-faced, slim figure is dimly outlined in profile in the purple light of the room they occupy, pacing relaxedly and appearing to be reading a book in their hands. Probably Sans' brother, you assume - the one Muffet mentioned. He looks down from the window and spies the two of you standing outside, tipping his head before disappearing from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAHH I'm loving writing this idiot so much. He's just. So precious.  
> I'm only partially sorry about how slow of a burn this thing is.
> 
> P.S: TAKE YOUR DIRTY SANS / GRILLBY SHIPPING SOMEWHERE ELSE YOU MASSIVE NERDS  
> Just kidding I love you all.
> 
> (I have a friendship crush on every character)


	15. Sugarplum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a meeting is arranged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I waited until Valentines to upload this for you lovely people~
> 
> I have a very serious question. Do I spend too much time talking about cake? I probably do. I love making / designing cakes and it isn't going to stop.
> 
> I have been excited about this chapter for a good month now. Finally you get to enjoy it too.  
> *pirate voice* FLUFF AHOY!  
> ...and finally the other brother.

     Sunlight reflects in hues of purple around the room in a gentle wash that makes you feel sleepy and relaxed. Muffet's tinkling laughter fills the shop at a joke from the third member of your group. Nobody else is here. It's a Sunday and technically the bakery is closed since Muffet has begun to follow some of the norms of human retail. However, her inability to keep still has her baking in the shop on Sundays anyway. You have become quite close, forever magnetised to the atmosphere of the wonderland that is the bakery and to the pastel proprietress herself. Being in her company energises you like nothing much else, and she apparently feels the same; she is happy to have you sit with her to decorate cakes and gossip at the end of each week. As for Sans, he has been reluctantly growing more comfortable with having you for company as you have been taking on more work at Grillby's. You quit your other bar job last week, and now work as much as you can at the new one along with your job at the florists. Since it appears to be Sans' second home, he has no choice but to put up with your attempts at friendship most days. You have quickly come to love his cynical yet comical ways, despite how obvious it is that he likes to keep people at a distance.

     You have been staying away from home as much as possible recently. Being there fills you with a creeping dread, most likely caused by the stark lack of company compared with Grillby's. It never used to bother you, but now you feel a constant sensation of being watched when you are at home. The silence presses in on you, louder than the music you play to swallow it. And it might just be your bored mind playing tricks on you, but you swear strange things keep happening. You'll hear footsteps in the next room, or objects inexplicably disappear and reappear in different places. The nightmares haven't improved either.

     So here you are, sitting beside the two truest friends you have in the world, and utterly grateful to them for accepting you and keeping you sane. The bouquet of jasmine and purple hyacinths you had arranged especially for Muffet at the florists the day before sits in a fluted glass vase on the counter. When you gave them to her, she had called you her sugarplum, and made you go bright red. You are rather proud of these flowers. They work very well with the decor, if you do say so yourself. You are good at interior design.  
     Muffet twists spirals of marbled indigo icing onto three cupcakes at a time, using two hands for each piping bag. As it turns out, her spidery biology allows her to multitask like a pro. You and Sans are decorating the finished icing swirls with shimmering white dots and edible glitter to create the effect of a starry sky. The first time Sans hesitantly agreed to accompany you to the shop and help you and Muffet in your weekly hobby, you had had to hide your amazement when he turned out to be brilliant at it. You learn something new about him every day it seems, no matter how he tries to hide behind his jokes. This week, you learned of his fascination with stars. So now, you make starry cakes after Muffet agreed to your recommendation. She doesn't miss a trick. She knows when you're doing something to make him happier, and she knows that he needs it too. You are both painfully aware that he's struggling, even though Muffet says things are better than they were before. She never tells you what 'before' was like though.  
     You move the next tray of iced cakes between you and Sans on the counter, and catch his eye to give him a smile and subtly check he's happy. His permanent grin is actually very readable once you learn his mannerisms. Today, he returns the smile properly so that it even affects his eyes. A good day.

     Sans is well aware of what you're trying to do, and though he might never have the _guts_ to admit it, he is unfathomably thankful for it. He no longer visits Grillby's just to avoid everything else. He kicks himself frequently for the way he treated you in the past, and does what he can to make you laugh as often as he can, which isn't particularly hard. He wants to make things up to you. He doesn't know how he couldn't see it before. You subconsciously do good things and cheer people up, no matter how you're feeling, in a way that's so reminiscent of Frisk that it's blindingly obvious where they get it from. You even look alike. Perhaps today he can set things right.

     "Well then, that's all of them!" Muffet announces. "I think that might just be a record, my pretties! Thank you for your help as always - it does make the time fly." She has finished her part of the job, and begins arranging the cakes you have completed on a three tier cake stand. "Uh oh. It looks as though they might not all fit. What a _shame_." She has a mischievous tone to match her pointy grin. She pushes one of the cakes towards you with one finger, maintaining eye contact while she picks up another and takes an impressively aggressive bite. How is it possible to be both enviably graceful and unsettlingly murderous in the same moment? It has to be a spider thing. You don't embarrass yourself by trying to copy her movements, but you do take the cake - just to make sure it's a good batch. Muffet holds a third 'spare' cake out towards Sans. When he goes to decline, she inches in menacingly towards him, calling his name.  
     "Nah, that's ok. I don't need any more cakes. Muffet. No! Uh-... ah! ______, help! Your arachnid acquaintance won't abstain from accostin' me!" By this point, Muffet has Sans pinned with his back to the counter, five arms creating a cage around him while the sixth holds the cupcake up to his face. He looks pleadingly to you for rescue. You are pretty certain that he doesn't like being too close to people, so he's taking this very well. You should probably try to help.  
     "M-Muffet, let the poor skeleton go." You manage. Your authoritative voice is about a -1 out of 10 on this occasion, since you are failing to control your laughter.  
     "Oh, but it's more fun when they struggle." She croons, baring her teeth.  
     Sans raises a brow bone. "I hate to break it to you kid, but I think your _beastie_ 's a bit crazy. She's gotta be a _bug_ influence on you. I don't want you _hangin_ ' around with her any more."  
     You are completely losing your cool by now. "Awful! Y-you're awful. Those were all awful. I am going to leave you to be eaten now. Muffet. Eat him." You don't actually move from your seat, instead just collapsing sideways onto the counter and shaking with laughter.

     The fight is eventually resolved in Muffet's favour, after which you and Sans say your goodbyes. You are still giggly as you walk, chatting happily with Sans until you reach the street where you have to part ways. You stop and turn to him.  
     "Right then. I'll see you tomorrow?"  
     "Actually, I was wonderin' if you'd walk me home?" Sans shrugs like it doesn't matter if you don't want to, though you're sure he does mind in reality.  
     "Sure. Any excuse to hear more of your bad jokes." You grin. The two of you start walking again, and you sync your footsteps with his easily. You are quiet for a while. It feels as though there's a relief that both of you gain from the company, and silences between you are natural rather than awkward. Although Sans is overly focussed on maintaining personal space when walking and will never link arms with you when you offer, his body language is a lot less tense than it was a few weeks ago.  
     As you wander, you begin to discuss the scientific complications of weather in the Underground. On your frequent walks, you have begun to ask Sans more and more questions about monsters. It almost always comes down to magic, but he's happy to talk about it. Any reservedness or fakery is lost in Sans' attitude when he gets to explaining things like this. He asks questions about humans too, sometimes, but it seems like he knows quite a lot already. Since information about humans is much more accessible, you suppose that makes sense. Today Sans seems distracted, and doesn't break into a full lecture like he normally would. You want to ask what's on his mind, but you know from experience that he'll sidestep your question.

~✿~

     "You wanna come in?" Sans scuffs a foot on the pavement and indicates behind him.  
     You stand with him in the driveway of the Skeleton House.  
     "Are you sure that's okay?" You have known Sans more than a month, but he has never invited you over before. You are flattered that he deems you close enough to do so now, but you don't want him to be uncomfortable.  
     "Sure. You can meet my bro and-..." Sans is cut off as the door slams open. A small, high-speed child barrels towards you and lets out a tiny squeak as they make impact and the air is knocked out of you both. Frisk looks up at you, positively vibrating with excitement. You are speechless as your child begins to sign frantically, bobbing up and down.  
     *Mad! I have so much to tell you!*  
     You gather them up into a massive hug with a wordless exclamation of pure happiness. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sans watching you. His face is full of smug joy.  
     "You sneaky bag of bones, you planned this!" You carry a very giggly Frisk over to him with your spare arm on your hip, and he just shrugs like he doesn't know what you're talking about.  
     "Nah, I had nothin' to do with it. Right kiddo?" He winks at Frisk, who nods passionately. A wave of emotion fills you with adoration for this idiot who stands before you and you pull him into a joint hug with Frisk, who grabs the hood of his jacket before he can squirm away. He gives up struggling very quickly and accepts his fate.  
     "Sans. Thank you so much." You can feel tears forming in your eyes and for once you don't stop them. Sans gives a quiet hum into your shoulder. He's smiling contentedly, and doesn't seem bothered with how close you are. Frisk nuzzles against your jaw. The sounds of the outside world drop away while you hold them both. You are overwhelmed by the completeness you feel, standing with your child on your hip and your best friend beside you.  
     After what could be seconds or hours, you pull apart and put Frisk down. Sans tips his head towards the open front door.  
     "Still gonna come in?"  
     Frisk answers for you by taking your hand and leading you inside. You are embraced by warmth, and you inhale the atmosphere of the house. The home has a smell that reminds you of fresh tomatoes and old books. You take off your shoes and follow Frisk into the main room. The house is big compared to yours, but cozy. There's a fireplace - which is currently unlit - and a long sofa. It's messy in a lived-in sort of way that your own house never achieves. Paper and pencils are strewn on the rug in front of the fireplace.

     You sit on the floor with your back against the sofa, talking with Frisk while they draw pictures to illustrate the stories they have to tell you. Sans is snoozing on one end of the sofa within minutes of sitting down. Frisk tells you about their friends, drawing pictures of M.K and a few other monster children you recognise as locals. They begin telling you about how they met them all Underground. You are sticking to sign language so that you don't disturb Sans.  
     After an hour or so of peaceful catching up, you decide to put the fire in, and Frisk helps you by balling up newspaper. You are just about to light it when the front door is thrown back on its hinges. The newcomer fails to notice Sans is asleep and proclaims in a voice to match his stature;  
     "I have returned! Hello, Human! And. Other human?"  
     Sans starts awake and grumbles a greeting. Frisk waves hugely at the six-foot-going-on-seven skeleton standing in the doorway. You try very hard not to feel threatened. This must be Papyrus. Is he really the younger brother? Papyrus makes a strange noise as he studies you, looking surprised, and walks over to stand with his hands on his hips before his brother.  
     "Brother. I must discuss something with you privately. Come with me." He doesn't give Sans a chance to respond before he marches off into the kitchen. Sans follows slowly behind him, still half asleep. While you light the fire, you can't help but overhear a part of the conversation. Papyrus sounds like he's shouting even when he talks quietly.  
     "- but aren't they the one Queen Toriel warned us about? Sans-..."  
     "Shh. No, Pap. Well, yeah, it is them, but-..." You can't hear exactly what Sans says next because his low voice is masked behind the crackling of the flames, but the bass of his speech is still barely audible. There is a gasp from Papyrus.  
     "Sans! Why didn't you mention this sooner? I must introduce myself properly!"  
     They both come back into the room a moment later. Papyrus is in the lead and he strikes a pose with one hand on his chest and the other behind his back. His eyes are full of energy.  
     "Greetings Human! I, the Great Papyrus, cordially welcome you to our home." He looks flustered. Is he blushing? You don't care to wonder how that's possible. It's just far too cute to question. "I am very excited to have Frisk's adult here!"  
     "Thank you, Papyrus. I'm ______. It's a pleasure to meet you! Wow, you are a lot taller than your brother." You don't notice Sans' posture relax behind his brother. Papyrus is bouncing on the balls of his feet. You can't help but giggle.  
     "Oh, this is wonderful! Now you can come on adventures with Frisk and I, and make family spaghetti! And..." Papyrus' dramatic monologue continues for quite some time, with Frisk joining in to add to the growing list of planned escapades.  
     You warm to the younger skeleton very quickly. He's contagiously upbeat and you find yourself thinking up ideas for the list too. You even begin to write things down on one of the pieces of paper lying around. Frisk illustrates it.

     Sans sits again, and watches everyone interact. You are handling your first meeting with Papyrus rather well considering how overwhelming he can be. You invite him to sit with you, humour his silliness warmly, and ask him questions about himself. You switch between signing and talking with Frisk fluidly, which seems to make them more comfortable. It helps Sans relax, knowing that Papyrus and Frisk are here, safe and sound. Nothing to be afraid of any more, and he can rely on you to look out for them both for now. When he closes his eyes, he can feel Frisk's soul resonating in harmony with yours. He hasn't seen any other human talking so easily with Frisk, even the ones who can sign. The version of sign language you use together has little differences from normal sign that he guesses you two have made up for communicating faster. It's your own secret code. Monsters can relate to each other more easily, through cues in the soul and its aura that humans can't pick up on. Generally speaking. You might not realise you're doing it, but you are reading those cues in Frisk. This is what a true parent-child relationship feels like. No matter the distance or time, the connection remains, and your souls will always sing in tune even when they aren't close enough to hear each other.  
     Somewhere in a part of Sans' soul that he has long locked away, something stirs, and he remembers how it feels to have a connection like that. He shuts it off fast. Nothing should ever hurt as much as it does to remember what he will never have. He distracts himself by studying your smile and the matching one on Frisk's face. Maybe his chance has long gone, but he has you two now at least. For him, the spectator's experience is enough. 

     Funny, how much a single child can change the worlds of those around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you happy now? Well. I will tell you this, little buddy. We haven't even got started.  
> Nu uh.  
> Not even a bit.
> 
> I think I gave up regulating the length of my chapters.


	16. Dissociate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains minor PTSD flashbacks and subjects that may be unsettling, and quite frankly just awful. For those who do not wish to read it, any important plot will be recapped next chapter. Feel free to skip ahead!

     He steps up to the immaculate porch and knocks on the white front door. In the space between the knock and her answer, he hopes with every bone in his body that she isn't home. No more putting this off, though, and she isn't one to keep guests waiting.  
    "Who's there?" She knows, of course, because the sound of bare knucklebones on wood is easy to distinguish, but they've done this for years and she loves to share a laugh with him.  
    "It's me, Tori." He answers without intonation.  
    "Oh?" She opens the door. "No joke today? Sans, what's wrong?" He knows he's never missed a knock knock joke. But after today, she might not want to joke around with him any more.  
    "I'm fine. Look, I gotta talk to you about somethin'. Can I come in?"  
    "Why, of course. Are you sure everything is quite alright?" She steps over to open the door fully, smoothing down her dress nervously. Sans doesn't have serious conversations unless it is absolutely necessary.  
    He doesn't answer, but uses the time crossing the foyer to organise his thoughts again. He heads to his usual chair and sits heavily, shoulders slumped. She sits in contrast - primly in her comfy old chair across from him, and waits with a dozen questions in her eyes and her hands neatly folded in her lap. It's going to be difficult to admit that he has betrayed her trust, but technically it isn't the first time he's failed her because of Frisk.

     "Tori. I found the human you asked me to follow."  
    Toriel's big, dewy eyes fill up with concern and intrigue. She speaks with enthusiasm.  
    "I knew I could trust you with the task. So. Are they likely to be a problem?" She looks as though she's already come to a conclusion about this stranger, just from Sans' demeanour. Knowing her, she already has a plan for removing the human as well. He shakes his head, and looks at his hands clenched together over the pockets of his jacket. He doesn't want to see the change in her expression when she knows. Right now, she's calm and ready to deal with a bad human. There is no way to remove the 'problem' that you pose to Toriel, and if she tries to get rid of you herself? He is going to have to take a side. He has never had to make that choice before.  
    "This human's actually a kind person, Tori. I've... got to know them pretty closely. I know their name, and all 'bout their personality, and it's enough to know that they'd never hurt Frisk. They're no threat." Can he just leave it at that for now, maybe? Give her the information in increments so that she doesn't decide to take any rash action?  
    "You have managed to deceive them well and truly? I should have expected as much from you. Though, if they are so harmless, what do they want with Frisk?"  
    Something about her suggestion that Sans is deceiving you fills him with a hot sickness and he wants to object. But maybe he is deceiving you? He can't understand why he hates that idea so much. He won't lie about this situation. He has too much respect for you. There is no way he's going to be able to keep such a game-changing piece of information as your identity from Toriel.  
    "They. Uh... You know how you were sayin' about Frisk's human parents? The ones who didn't want them back?" He leaves a long pause. He isn't really thinking about what he's saying. He can't help but run through all the things a monster as powerful as Toriel could do to you - will do to you if he doesn't get this right.  
    Toriel clears her throat. "Oh, yes. Not the most likeable individuals. How can one care so little for one's own child? I can't even begin to fathom why-.."  
    "I know why." Sans cuts her off before she begins a rant she's already had. She gets so passionate about parenting. "Those people aren't Frisk's real parents. Like... you aren't." That is a very fine line to tread with Toriel, and he can already see her expression becoming defensive.  
    "It does not matter that I might not be a human. That makes absolutely no difference, I thought you of all people shared my opinion on that, Sans?" She is indignant, her stature somehow becoming more impressive, something that years of being a sovereign teaches you to perfect.  
    "I am more of a parent to my darling Frisk than any human ever could be, letting them get lost and leaving them alone like that. I am stunned that you would compare me to _people_ like that. Besides, what does this have to do with this individual you have been tracking down? How could anyone related to those frankly outrageous excuses for guardians be a 'kind' person?"  
     She waits with hardened eyes. Sans already feels like he has totally destroyed this situation, since the collected, eloquent being sat before him is an instance of the righteous fury of Toriel, and there's no going back. He is a failed diplomat standing on a battlefield before the war, between two sides who will crush each other. Or, rather, before one side totally destroys the other. He breathes deeply, which doesn't help at all.  
     "They aren't like those people. Not even a bit. They're Frisk's... biological parent."  
     Toriel's demeanour doesn't really change as she adds this information to the case she is already building against all bad parents. She does struggle for something to say for a moment though.  
     "Truly?" She seems at a loss, and then her brow creases accusingly. "You waited until now to tell me this? It has been weeks, Sans, and you spent your time befriending this individual rather than informing me? What makes you think that this person is any less of a threat than anyone else?"  
     Sans attempts to get a word in, but the question was rhetorical and she's on a roll.  
     "Though I am grateful for you work, I am going to have to take this into my own hands now. I suppose I can't really expect someone as passive as you to take action against this person. The fact that they are Frisk's parent makes them all the more dangerous. What if they were to try and take my child from me? They must be made to understand that it is too late for them to take them back now. If they had wanted Frisk, why didn't they speak up when they had the opportunity? They can't care all that much if-..."  
     "Don't." Sans' voice has gone dark without him meaning it to. "Don't you threaten them, Tori."  
     Toriel is not phased by his warning tone, or she doesn't notice. After all, she has never learned to be afraid of her skeleton friend.  
     "Can you honestly not see the situation, my dear? Don't you see that this is all a front? They didn't care for Frisk until they learned that they were living with a monster. This is all more prejudice, an attempt to ruin the life we are building here. No. Their neglect will not be allowed to continue. They didn't care enough to keep Frisk safe in the first place, so they don't deserve to have them."  
     This last comment sparks a flame in Sans, where there has never been fire before. He knows anger, he knows loss and the instinctive, scrambling terror to protect the lives of his friends, but never has he been furious in defence of someone like this.  
     "Would you say the same about yourself then? That you failed to keep your child safe? By your logic, you don't deserve them either." He doesn't raise his voice, but stuns her all the same as she tries to decide whether he's joking. But the rumble in his voice is no joke.  
     "I - I can't believe you would say... Are you suggesting-" She finds her pride running out on her in the face of ivory rage. She has not had the displeasure of experiencing the no-pupils, thunder- voiced, immovable force that is Sans protecting those he cares for.  
     "Sans. Are you-..." She adjusts her position, smooths her skirt, and assesses her friend. He is displaying more passion now than she has ever seen from him. She sighs. "You really do trust this person, don't you?"  
     He clears his throat, runs a hand over his face, and Toriel is relieved to see his pupils flicker back into place. His voice is still husky with tension as he explains.  
     "They're my friend, Tori. And not just a pal to make jokes with and 'deceive' like you said. I don't have to. They ain't stupid. They worked out it was you that set me on 'em, and they didn't care that you had me doin' something so underhanded. They aren't afraid of you, and they're honest and brave and gentle, just like the child you're tryin' so hard to keep away from 'em." Towards the end of his setting things straight, he feels his voice break. It's unlike him to be getting so intense about this. Toriel has no response, still reeling from the rebuttal. People rarely stand up to her. Sans continues.  
     "If you don't let _______ see Frisk, they'll do it anyway. And they'll have my support." He is already convinced; if he has to make a choice, then despite all his history with Toriel, it's you he'll stand by.  
     Toriel is well-versed in matters of loyalty and a good judge of character. She knows he's telling the truth, and there is nothing she can do to stand in the way. When she speaks again, her voice has become quiet, sensible and reserved.  
     "Well then. I can see there is no choice in the matter. Your services will still be required to keep a close eye on this human, obviously. How things proceed is up to you. Oh, and Sans?" She leans in very close, a fire in her deep brown eyes. "If Frisk is hurt by this person, it will be on your head."  
     Sans leans in too, letting his words fall heavy. "Oh, you have no idea, Tori."

~✿~

     Of course it would be on his head, he thinks as he wanders towards the town centre, letting his feet carry him wherever they like. If Frisk got hurt too badly and things tripped back to the very beginning, the kid would be devastated at having to start things all over again. The kid was good at being happy, but it took a good pretender to recognise another. He knew how it stung to suddenly remember something that nobody else even knew had happened. Sometimes, like remembering a dream, he'd think of a walk through the snow, a joke never shared, a song never sung. It made his sternum feel like it might fracture inwards. Things would never be the same twice, no matter how he tried to fix them. Not that he bothered doing that any more.  
     However, if there was a reset, Frisk would know what to do this time. The whole situation would be a lot cleaner and as always, Frisk would find the most efficient way to do things. They wouldn't need him as a middle-man with their parent, and he'd go about his monotonous days as usual, forever. He's half relieved, half terrified at that thought. Without him having to help Frisk, he would never have made the mistake of making friends with someone like you. He has learned that he shouldn't care this much about someone who will forget him if there is a reset. Caring this much and knowing that he can never tell this person the truth makes him feel like tearing his soul out and throwing it into the sea.  
     Frisk only needs him as a sound and reliable constant throughout each reset, and it feels like they will be performing this dance forever. He cannot risk being close to people from the surface, who will forget every detail of his existence so easily.  
     Perhaps he can distance himself from this whole situation now, while he has the chance. But you're so persistent, he'd have to make you hate him.

     He walks down the high street, past the bakery. He can't begin to think what you'll do when he has to tell you to leave him the hell alone. And Muffet? She doesn't have to worry about remembering you when everything goes to shit. She can enjoy meeting you all over again, and have her bright little human friend all to herself. She'll be furious when he ruins things with you, as she should be. She'll string him up. But who cares? It's not going to matter anyway. Nor the next time they surface and he sees you in the street, here in town, and has to pretend it's okay. It won't even matter if the next reset is one of the nightmarish ones.  
     Maybe he'll let that _thing_ dust him next time. Maybe it'll all stop for good then. He has stopped walking. A child runs past on the street, chasing their sibling too fast and too close to him, screaming laughter high-pitched and manic. They knock into him as they pass by and a sharp pain runs through him.

      He plants his feet to prepare for the next round, and where he moves his soles over the golden cobbles, fine silvery dust picks up and blows over his slippers. The bell rings thrice, and in the distance the barrier hums eternally. The red-eyed child has their head cocked at an unnatural angle, so that when they smile, it's twisted and disturbing. They whisper his name, using the voice of his child, his Frisk. They raise the knife, and he can't move any more. His sternum aches in anticipation of the blow. He didn't _mean_ it. He didn't want this. How could he want this? This is wrong, this is wrong, he doesn't want to die, this is-... 

     A voice breaks through, ripples in an underground lake. Two voices, now. One high and lilting, the other calming and concerned. His breath hitches, but at least that means he remembers how to simulate breathing. The voices both call his name in unison, and then he can feel the presence of two souls beside his own. Both the most precious amethyst purple, resonating with each other so beautifully. One encased in a misty, silver, inverted heart capsule, the other clear and bright, with those unique little glittering shards orbiting the heart, that have been there ever since he met you.  
     The corridor collapses away as he realises his eyes are closed. _______ stands there. Wide, worried eyes search his face. Beside you, Muffet stands with an arm linked in yours.  
     You are standing really close to him, holding his shoulder delicately. But he doesn't mind that. It amazes him all the time how much he doesn't mind it. He tries to smile, but he's still numb. He can't really feel any part of his body besides the place where you are holding on to him. There is no pity in your expression when you study his face, only a little reassuring smile at the corner of your mouth. He is very grateful that you don't pity him. You slide your hand down to his elbow and very slowly link your arm with his. Applying a little pressure as you begin to walk, you speak gently.  
     "Come on Muffet, I think our friend needs some tea."  
     The whole time, you don't let go, and hold a little tighter if he flags or misses a step. You talk all the way back to the bakery, keeping his thoughts here and now. He knows he should be uncomfortable with you being so close, since he has always dealt with these things alone. He shouldn't allow himself to rely on someone, when it was only going to be taken away. But he is too tired to care, and the comfort is too good, and if it weren't for you, he probably would have slid to the floor and stayed there all night.

     You sit with him and drink tea, as normal, with Muffet pottering about nearby. You make your own conversation sometimes, and other times you are silent. You never ask him if he is okay. He's sure you already know, and you don't need him to explain himself. As always, the silences between the two of you speak so many things that words can't translate. He allows himself to be content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that I am a bit cruel, but then so is Toriel.  
> I will be handing out cupcakes to those who are upset to soak up the emotions. I am sorry.
> 
> *eats seven cupcakes*
> 
>  
> 
> (Guess what, I started working on a new fic. It was meant to be a fluff one but. It's... I'm a bad person.)


	17. Blowing A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you teach and are taught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this early for my darling friend [TK](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ToumeiKyoudai)
> 
> *giggles intensify*

[In the last episode:]

     Sans visits Toriel, and after an unexpectedly tense discussion with a disgruntled Queen of Monsters, convinces her that _______ should be allowed to visit Frisk as they wish. It is clear that he will not back down from defending Frisk's happiness.  
     Toriel, though feeling somewhat betrayed and more than a little unsettled from experiencing angry Sans for the first time, agrees - on the condition that Sans continues to keep an eye on the new human. They part on terms less cordial than usual, with some veiled threats from Toriel.  
     Heading out for a walk to over-think things, Sans begins to panic about the consequences of getting close to someone who won't remember him after a reset. He decides that he must distance himself from _______ as much as he can.  
     After pondering too long on resets, he experiences recurring images from the past, or perhaps what could be, if the world starts over - the golden corridor and a red-eyed child.  
     Sans is drawn from his trance by two purple souls - Muffet's and yours. You take his arm, and the three of you head back to the haven that is the bakery, with you keeping him grounded all the way. You are well-versed in these things.

[And so it continues...]

     Rain patters on canvas, and your reliable boots splash in the puddles that you walk through on purpose. The air is cool and fresh and the sounds and colours of the street are muted - apart from the lights of the Skeleton House. To your perception, it's a brightly glowing vessel holding all the things you love most. You stand in the driveway feeling more jittery than you should, and mentally prepare yourself for the evening, smoothing out your clothing and fluffing moisture from your hair before you enter. Today, you want to look presentable.  
     You are wearing an ombré teal woollen jumper with a turtleneck that comes down to your knees, over neat black jeans. Underneath the jumper, you have one of those shirts with a skeletal torso printed on it. You bought it to mess with Sans, but after a few hours wearing it you already know it's going to become one of your favourite shirts.  
     Over the last week or so, Sans has been trying his best to help arrange another meeting for you and Frisk. He spoke to Toriel yesterday, owning up to having found out who you were. You didn't want him to have to do it alone, but he said she'd take it better that way. And as far as you could tell, she had taken the news just fine. He must be a pretty good negotiator, because today she had allowed Frisk to throw a party and invite you along, after they finished school. You have spent the extra time you have to ponder things trying to think of a way to thank him, but it's hard enough to think of a gift for other humans, let alone a skeleton who is so impossibly unfathomable.  
     You step up to the door and knock. The comforting bass of Sans' voice replies after a moment.  
     "Who's there?"  
     You were ready for this, of course;  
     "Orange."  
     "Orange who?"  
     "Orange you going to let me inside?"  
     You can hear badly suppressed giggles. "T-that was pretty awful kid. I don't think you've got what it takes to make it in the Pun House." He breaks down into wheezy giggles again, more comfortable being himself since you can't see him. You love his rare honest laughter, it makes your stomach do little flips.  
     "Come on, I can hear you laughing, Sans!" You wait a moment for him to relent, but there's a knock from the other side of the door. You sigh dramatically.  
     "Really? Are you going to keep me out in the rain forever?" The knock comes again, an echo of your awkward attempt at introductions outside the hotel, that was now nearly two months ago. "Fine. Who's there?"  
     "Water."  
     "Water who?"  
     "Water you doing-... uh oh." Sans is cut off at a thundering of footsteps followed by a string of screeching ' _Nope_!'s from a full-volume Papyrus. There's a scuffle and the sounds of Sans being berated before the door is opened, revealing Papyrus, with Sans slung over his shoulder, looking completely comfortable. Papyrus takes your hand to bring you inside. You sort of expected his grip to be rough like his demeanour, but he is very careful. Quite the gentleman.  
     "I am terribly sorry for my brother's behaviour, ______. Look at this state, Sans, the human is all damp. How could you leave our guest out in the rain?"  
     " _Water_ you talkin' about, Pap? I didn't put them out there." It seems Sans is unable to leave a pun unfinished. His brother promptly drops him from about seven feet up with a huff, and storms off into the kitchen, snapping the sliding door shut behind him. You wonder if he's actually angry, but Sans doesn't seem too bothered. He picks himself up, chuckling, and winks at you before heading over to his usual corner of the sofa. You sit across from him in a large armchair.  
     You are sharing one of your comfortable silences, neither of you particularly feeling like making small talk, with the muffled clattering of Papyrus in the next room doing who knows what, when there's a noise from the top of the stairs. M.K comes bowling down them in a tumble that would have worried you if you didn't already know how impervious the child is to gravity. When they reach the bottom, they right themselves and when they see you, throw back their head to shout up the stairs.  
     "Yo, Frisk! Your Mad's here!" Apparently the nickname has already stuck. They come waddling over to you and grin hugely. "Hey, ____, how's it going?" They shorten your name down to initials like their own, making you feel fuzzy.  
     "M.K. It's good to see you. I'm..." You go to reply with a stock response like always - I'm alright. - but take a mental step back and contemplate. "You know what, I feel brilliant, thank you!" M.K bounces as you grin as honestly as you can. You catch Sans studying you and turn the smile on him instead. He might not be able to smile genuinely for you, but you have to start somewhere. He returns something that's close enough and looks down. You begin to worry again as you were yesterday after you found him spacing out in the middle of the street, when your train of thought is stalled by Frisk loudly jumping down the stairs two at a time with a small white rabbit in tow. They make the distance over to you very quickly and stand before you with the air of a businessperson. They sign.  
     *Mad, this is Caramel, or Mel for short. Mel, meet Mad. You can call them _______.*  
     Caramel bounces shyly. She reminds you of a living marshmallow, and her voice is light and squeaky. "It's a pleasure to meet you, _______. Frisk has told us a lot about you!" Her big, round eyes are the only facial feature visible through her fur.  
     "Hi, Mel! It's lovely to meet another friend of Frisk's." You really want to shake her paw just to see how soft her fur is. _God, I need to stop doing that to every monster I meet_.  
     "So, how did you meet Frisk, you two?" You slide from your chair to the floor to be on the same level as them. Mel follows suit and sits on her knees, while Frisk hops up on the sofa close to Sans, startling him from where he was drifting off, and M.K plops down to sit with their legs sticking out. They go first, since Mel seems a little shy.  
     "Me and Frisk went on a quest to meet Undyne! She's so awesome, we were tracking her all the way from Snowdin, across Waterfall, to the Capital! Frisk even saved me when I nearly fell off a bridge!" You don't understand what they said in entirety, but you guess they are talking about parts of the Underground.  
     "Wow, that really does sound like an adventure. I'd really like to see those places one day." You notice Frisk and Sans share a look in the background. _What was that?_ You disregard it for now.  
     "So, Caramel, what about you?"  
     She twists her tiny paws a bit. "I come from Snowdin. M-mother runs-... ran the Inn, so I met Frisk when they stayed there. I only live just up the road now, so Frisk can still stay with us like before." She sounds wistful. Maybe she misses the Underground? It makes sense since she grew up there, but you think she's the first monster you've encountered who obviously misses it. There's so much you still don't know.  
     *I'm happy everyone still lives close together here, right Mel?* Frisk signs, clearly trying to cheer their friend up. Mel nods, and you note that she had turned to Frisk when they started signing, even though she had her back to them to begin with. She must have very good hearing.  
     *I can't imagine any of the monsters from Snowdin not being together.* Frisk smiles distantly, in a way that you haven't seen before. Something unusually mature even for them. They have grown up a lot in the short time they were away.  
     There is a bang as the kitchen partition door is thrown open aggressively, which sends Caramel about two feet into the air in surprise. The voice of Papyrus rings out far too loudly.  
     "Who. Wants. SPAGHETTI?!" He comes skidding into the room, and that pensive look on Frisk's face is replaced with a massive, dorky smile. They raise their hand and jump up and down on the sofa cushions. Sans, who is apparently asleep now, tips over from the movement, but stays totally dead to the world. _Haha. Undead jokes now?_ You make a note to use that one on him.

~✿~

     You end up helping with the spaghetti. As soon as you mention to Papyrus that you make a mean Rosa sauce, he insists that you must be 'assessed on your pasta making capabilities' and you are put to work. Not that you mind at all. You pull up an electroswing playlist specifically tailored to your requirements for cooking, and begin to hunt around for the ingredients.  
     You pull things out of cupboards and arrange them together neatly on the sideboard, moving with your catchy music. You wouldn't normally be comfortable enough to do so in someone else's house, but you are feeling downright peppy. The kitchen is rather under-stocked, you think, but you assume skeletons don't need to eat as much. There's plenty of spaghetti, and you'll make do with what you can scrounge for the sauce.  
     You should really have expected that this kitchen wouldn't be exactly like a human one, but you still have to do a double take when you open a tall cupboard and many bones fall out. The shelves in this cupboard are stacked full with bones. You hesitantly replace the the escaped... femurs? You aren't sure. You put them back and pretend nothing happened. You perform a little sideways shuffle to your music as you move to the next shelf and open the door. Okay. Now this, you really should have expected. You can't stifle your giggle at this particular storage unit. It's full of bottles of ketchup, the cheap, plastic squeeze-bottle type ones.  
     "Hey, I'll take one of those." rumbles a deep voice.  
     You weren't aware that Sans had been watching your exploration from the doorway. He startles you and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise and totally freeze up. He smirks at you, bobbing his head to your music. Ugh. He caught you dancing. You groan and pull down a bottle, chucking it at him a lot harder than you had meant to in your embarrassment. Before you can be worried, he lifts a hand lazily and...  
     Well.  
     He did catch it.  
     Just not in his actual hand.

     You stare at the bottle, rotating slowly in mid-air, trapped in a shifting blue mist, about a foot away from Sans. He's sniggering. Your brain tries to process what this means and then you blurt out, much louder than you meant to;  
     "Holy sh- wow! That is the coolest thing I've ever seen. How can-... how does it work?" Rather than wait for an answer, you take a handful more bottles down from the shelf and chuck one at him again. It gets caught up in the forcefield too and Sans grins widely at your amazement. You throw another, and he raises his other hand to catch it in the blue tendrils. You notice his left eye flaring with the same blue, and the little white lights flicker out, leaving one socket dark. He looks very smug with how impressed you are, and is clearly trying to contain his amusement at your shenanigans. You add yet another bottle to the set, wondering how many he can levitate at once. Your grin has become decidedly mischievous. You cradle a few bottles in your arms and close in to inspect the phenomenon. You experimentally place a bottle with its siblings, running your fingers through the mist. It tingles, and pulls on you ever so slightly, as if it were magnetically attracted to you. Maybe just... a couple more? That's seven now. You drop another in and he can no longer maintain his smugness. He bursts out laughing, and it's the most genuine and hearty laugh you have ever heard from him. You feel your face flush with warmth and your grin is totally out of hand by this point.  
     "A-alright, ok, t-that's it, you've reached maximum levitation capacity!" He's trying to calm down, but he's not doing a very good job. You're mesmerised by the ever-changing cyan and yellow of his eye now. You don't care that you're about three inches away from him and staring in awe.  
     "Your eye is beautiful." Why are his cheekbones dusted blue? Your mind connects the dots. "Wait. Are you blushing?!"  
     "What?" He tries to frown. "Nah. It's just the magic." He's totally blushing. You pull away a bit, feeling sheepish for getting carried away. Sans' eye flicks to look behind you, and his grin goes stiff. The eye-light goes out and the bottles fall to the floor all at once. You turn to see Frisk, stock still, halfway into the room. They look like they're... glaring? Then they catch your grin and their expression swiftly changes to relief, and then to a mischievous smile to match your own. They sign exaggeratedly.  
     *My turn.* Without any more warning, they make the distance over to a frozen Sans and launch themselves at him with full force. He finds the ability to react and summons his magic again, catching them mid-air and leaving them flailing about and laughing manically. His expression is contorted in distress. You have no idea what just passed between them.  
     "SANS!" Papyrus has come to investigate the ruckus and is looming in the doorway with his hands on his hips. "How many times must I remind you? No magic in the house!" You rush to cover for the shorter brother, feeling sorry for him for reasons you don't entirely understand.  
     "Oops! Sorry, Papyrus, it was my fault. I asked him to show me."  
     "Ah, well... All the same. I must request that you put the Human down, brother."  
     Sans obliges silently, and snatches a bottle of ketchup from the scattered bottles before slouching out of the room, giving off a very dejected aura. You retrieve Frisk and hoist them onto your hip, feeling strangely guilty.  
     "Sorry, Frisk. I shall have to re-educate my brother on matters of indoor etiquette." Papyrus ruffles their hair before heading after his brother.  
     You look at your child.  
     "Everything ok, little duck?" They think for a moment before nodding and wrapping their arms around you tight. They plant a kiss on your cheek before wriggling to get down and padding over to turn the music right up. They start rocking out to the lively beat, quickly getting into the rhythm. You can't help but be jealous of how easily they move. You think they probably aren't totally okay, but they aren't going to talk about it. They're too much like you, but that also means you know they'll be alright. You jig over to them clicking your fingers, and swing along too as you begin to cook, adding in a couple of more extravagant steps around them as you work, but not before you've made sure to slide the door closed. This is parent/child time now, no troublesome skeletons allowed.

~✿~

     Skeletons can cry.  
     Papyrus tears up and makes a heart-wrenching noise when he tries your spaghetti. He looks totally in awe of you, and grasps your hand over the table.  
     "_______! You are never leaving this house! I'll pay you to stay! Teach me your ways, I wish to become your apprentice! I am honoured to be in the presence of a spaghetti master such as yourself!" He turns to Frisk. "Why did you not tell me that you are the heir to the Pasta Empire?!"  
     He's so passionate that you can't be sure if he's joking. Frisk swings their legs happily beside you and gives Papyrus a thumbs up. M.K is making a catastrophic mess opposite Frisk across the table, while Mel nibbles daintily beside them, staining the corners of her mouth orange. Sans hasn't said a word since earlier, but he pipes up finally, relieving you that maybe you haven't upset him as much as you thought.  
     "You know what, you're right, Paps. This is actually pretty great." He sounds genuinely surprised, and perhaps grateful? He looks at you from the other end of the table for the first time since the incident. You smile gently.  
     "Well," you say, "the sauce has ketchup in it."  
     Papyrus gasps. "You put ketchup in spaghetti?! Unbelievable! I didn't think anything that my brother likes could be so beautiful!"  
     "Well, he likes you, doesn't he?" It takes Papyrus a minute to understand what you are insinuating, and then you see a tangerine blush cover his face and you grin with satisfaction. "Well, it's true. I'm really glad you both like it." You don't mention that it only has ketchup in it because you couldn't find many of the usual seasonings you would use. After trying it though, you resolve that maybe it is better this way, if only because you have somehow appeased both skeleton brothers. You realise that this combination of tastes is forever going to remind you of them now.

     When everyone finishes eating, Sans slinks away upstairs, saying he's going for a nap. Papyrus is very vocally disappointed in him. The kids jump down from the table and Frisk signs 'thank you' to you, moving an open palm in an arc down from their mouth. Mel points at Frisk.  
     "Why do you do that?"  
     Frisk looks confused. *This? 'Thank you'* They make the action again.  
     "Yes. You do it all the time. What does it mean?"  
     Frisk has no other way of communicating what it means apart from signing it, so you interject for them.  
     "It means thank you. Did you not know that one?"  
     "No... I thought you were blowing kisses. But why do you need to do that to say thank you?" "It's sign language. Didn't Frisk teach you?" You assumed that all the monsters Frisk was close to had been educated by your child or already knew sign somehow.  
     Caramel shakes her head. "Like all the other hand signals? What's it for?"  
     You are confused. "Frisk can't talk with their mouth, so they speak with their hands instead. You can understand them, can't you?" You're sure Mel had been chatting away to Frisk over dinner quite fluently.  
     "Of course I can understand."  
     "But..." You try to decipher how she can be talking to them without sign. "You don't know the signs they're using?"  
     Mel shakes her head.  
     "Then how can you understand them?" You seem to remember Grillby saying something about monsters understanding people differently...  
     "I just can. So can everyone. What they say just makes sense."  
     You are flummoxed. How can she not understand sign language, but understand Frisk perfectly? Do the other monsters even know sign? You turn to Papyrus, who is stacking plates.  
     "Papyrus, do you know sign language?"  
     He grins proudly. "Of course I do! Sans taught me a long time ago. But I don't really need it, Frisk is very good at talking anyway."  
     "How...?"  
     "With their soul, of course!" He says it like it's perfectly obvious.  
     Seeing that you don't have any idea what he's talking about, Papyrus quickly cleans the table and then joins everyone in the living room. He clears his throat;  
     "Lots of monsters can't speak. Lots of monsters don't have hands or a way of signing. They can still tell each other what they need to because they use their souls!" He seems proud, like this is plenty of explanation.  
     "So. Is it something monsters can see, or feel maybe?" You think you understand, but that is not enough scientific detail for you.  
     Frisk tries to help. *I think I understand it too. Some monsters, you feel what they are saying, in your heart.* You feel like nobody here really has the capacity to actually convey how this works.  
     "So you can do the same thing, Frisk?" Your child nods. "How did you learn to do it? Is it some kind of telepathy?"  
     "Ah, no, it's more..." Papyrus flounders. "It's..."  
     "It's not too far from it actually." Sans' rumble comes from behind you. You give him a questioning look. You thought he was sleeping. He shrugs.  
     "Couldn't sleep. See, you did something similar to the way monsters communicate just then. You asked me a question, but you didn't say it." You squint, and he knows you well enough to guess that this is not enough of an explanation.  
     "Okay, so. Imagine you want to tell someone somethin', but they don't know your language. You use your body language, which is universal, right?" He waits for you to nod. "So you can tell someone something without speech or sign, in quite a lot of detail, before even using your soul. But monsters are beings of magic. They can feel the souls of those around them, and the infinite different waves of emotions they give off. It is like telepathy, but that suggests you are using words. It's simpler than that, and at the same time so much deeper. Someone who is practised can hold a conversation without saying a word." He's doing that thing that you love, where he loses his pretences. It's a whole new side to him. His voice is less drowsy, more eloquent and poetic. Even the children are captivated by his explanation. He motions everyone to stand up.  
     "Let's try somethin' here. Everyone pair up. Frisk, you're with me, we'll be the example." M.K runs up to Papyrus and hops on the spot next to him, so you smile down at Caramel and crouch beside her. Sans looks at Frisk. He's only about a head taller than them.  
     "So, Frisk, I want you to ask me a question, using as little sign as you can, ok?"  
     Frisk nods, and does so, seeming like they've done this before. They only make one sign, very subtly, the one for 'colour'. The rest of the time, their hands stay pressed to their front so they don't habitually sign. Sans nods.  
     "Red."  
     Frisk grins. Sans looks at the rest of you. "So what did they ask me?"  
     M.K answers; "They asked what their favourite colour was!" They wiggle happily, clearly feeling like teacher's pet when Sans smiles.  
     "That's right. Now you four have to try the same thing. Speak as little as you can."  
     You frown. That demonstration didn't help much at all. Mel tugs your sleeve, and locks your gaze with her big dark eyes. "Ready?"  
     "Okay, ready. Ask me something."  
     She breathes a moment, then half-shuts her eyes. She tips her head from side to side a little. You can sense her purposeful gaze, sure, but... nothing else. Across from you, Papyrus is getting excited.  
     "Ooh! Ooh! I know this one! You're... ten!"  
     "Yo! You got it right!" M.K cackles. They both look more pleased that Papyrus answered the question right, rather than that he understood M.K's silent question. You didn't feel anything at all.  
     You sigh, and rub your face, more than a little disappointed.  
     "Sorry, Mel, I don't think I'm any good at this."  
     She shakes her head. "I-it's ok. Your turn."  
     You take a couple of breaths, and close your eyes. It's like telepathy, but you're using your heart? You concentrate, open your eyes to face Mel, and try to ask; _"When is your birthday?"_  
     Mel looks pleased with herself.  
     "It's April 19th."  
     You look amazed. "You heard me? Wow! But how did you do it?" You sigh. "I can't do it at all..." Mel shrugs. "You can, you just have to keep trying. I only know how to speak to souls a little bit, but I've been taught since I was a kit."  
     You turn to check what the others are doing. Sans and Frisk appear to be in a deep, silent conversation, facing each other with their eyes half-lidded. Frisk holds loosely onto the pocket of Sans' jacket. They break from the communion, and Frisk smiles gently at Sans as he straightens up. He winks at them, and turns to you to find you looking dejected and maybe somewhat envious.  
     "It's alright, it's not exactly the easiest thing to learn, just like any language. Monsters are raised with this stuff, so it wasn't really a fair challenge. Sign and body language can act as a sort of conduit for it, though, so you can learn." His words are reassuring.  
     *I can help!* Frisk adds.  
     You really would like to learn.  
     "Thank you Sans, you're a really cool teacher!" Says M.K. Despite your failings, you can't help but agree with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many notes:
> 
> Did that chapter title get you excited? Did I catch you out? I sure hope I did. I'm sorry but kisses are rare and powerful and... just be chill, you dorks.  
> This is only part one of Shenanigans With The Skelebros.
> 
> I actually do have that excellent electroswing playlist that I mentioned. It's here >>> [Electroswingin'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eco4z98nIQY&list=PLsTJTmeamIjAqVgYaApQ05wSN_GhbaiZ6) and super great for being productive to (and it has Undertale remixes).
> 
> Sign usage note: I am British, but Frisk is using American sign because I find it much more fluid, intuitive and sensible than British sign.
> 
> Spaghettore's note: Rosa sauce is basically a cheese sauce / white sauce and a tomato-based sauce mixed together. It's bright orange and indisputably the best thing ever. And yes, I do put ketchup in it.
> 
> I have some homework for you guys. I want you to tell me where you think I'm going with this. I'm interested to see your predictions. (I mean, I know exactly where I'm going, but I want to see how close you can get.)


	18. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you dare and care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *escapes from the void, gasping and tearful*  
> *urgently throws fic pages at you*  
> *is dragged screaming back into the void*

     "Yes!" Shouts M.K, at the top of their tiny lungs, bouncing on the seat of the armchair.  
    Papyrus has incited the obligatory game of Truth or Dare, and claimed one of Sans' ketchup bottles as the spinner. He gets the children to sit down, and turns to you and Sans expectantly.  
    "I'll be right there, bro, I gotta reply to a message first." Sans pulls out his phone to emphasise his point and wanders away, and you scowl at his back for having an excuse for getting out of the game. You sit down on the sofa beside Frisk. You don't like this game, but with this company, you can't imagine it being too bad so long as you stick to asking for dares.  
    Papyrus starts and spins, landing on M.K. They choose Dare, and Papyrus tells them to do a 'majestic flip' off the armchair they are sat on. You feel like this might be a bad plan, and put a large cushion on the floor for them to land on. They... actually pull it off pretty impressively, though they land on their face. You guess they are just really good at falling over. Everyone is already giggly in the first round.  
     To your surprise, Sans pads over and sits on the floor in front of the sofa, with his back propped against it. You weren't expecting him to want to join in. M.K spins, and Frisk is selected. They choose Dare too, and M.K giggles out that they have to slow dance with you. Frisk looks like they have been waiting for this challenge their whole life, and they get up and stand in the middle of the circle, bowing, and offering a hand to you. You should be hating this, but looking at the people here, there's nothing to be shy about. You take their hand, and seeing the anticipation plastered all over their face, an idea inspires you. Taking a red blanket from the sofa and draping it over their shoulders like a cape, you begin to sing 'Once Upon A Dream' as you dance. And though you lack confidence in your talents, there is one thing you are truly proud of, and that is your voice. You start the song on a deep note, and as you get into the second verse and speed up the tempo, you skip to the next octave up. Just as you had expected, Frisk's eyes shine at your song. They used to ask you to sing to them often, years ago, when things felt simpler. And you and your child can slow dance together like nobody is watching.  
     M.K and Mel join in singing once they get the idea, while Mel spins around like a cotton ballerina. Papyrus has fallen onto his front, swaying his head with your song, and he looks positively enthralled. Sans actually looks kind of enchanted himself, his pupils focussed more intently than usual and his expression natural and soft. This... turns out not to be such a bad game, in the right company. When you sit down, you are overheating from all the movement and having an audience, so you take off your jumper and fold it, putting it on top of Frisk's head. They continue to wear it like a mortarboard hat.  
    Caramel goes next, and makes the mistake of choosing Truth. Frisk asks her if she has a crush on anyone, and she stutters and moans at them.  
    "You always ask things l-like that! No fair!"  
    *You chose Truth. So, who is it?* Frisk radiates silent glee.  
    Mel grumbles, and very quietly answers. "G-Gwynn..."  
    "Gwynn?! As in Green Scarf Gwynn?" Laughs M.K. "Actually. They are kinda cute... I'll allow it!" M.K continues to laugh in the gravelly, energised way they have. These kids are so precious. You feel like you never want today to end. Sans shuffles over on the floor and nudges your leg.  
    "Nice shirt." He says quietly, with a glint in his pinprick eyes. You had totally forgotten you were wearing the skeleton shirt. You give him a sly grin.  
   "It is pretty stylish, isn't it?"  
    "Sure, I do look pretty great when I'm nude." He says this _way_ louder than he needs to. You feel your face heat up, and you punch his shoulder without much force. Papyrus hears that last comment and gives a gasp from across the room;  
    "_______! Unbelievable! What an improper shirt! I believe you have been spending too much time with my brother!" He's blushing like an anime character again, and Sans is shaking into the collar of his jacket to hide his laughter. The room has fallen awkwardly quiet at Papyrus' outburst, and you shrink back into your seat.  
    Frisk notices the shirt at this point and falls apart into half-silent giggles, pointing at you and finding this so hilarious that there are tears running down their face. Its wonderful to hear them make a noise, to know they are comfortable enough here to truly laugh. It's contagious and honest. The other children are caught up in it too. You cover your flushed cheeks with your hands. You honestly hadn't really considered that the shirt looked like a naked skeleton. But hey, making them laugh like that is worth it. You feel a twinge in your chest, at all the love you have for this little family. And that is what they are. Frisk's new little family. It isn't perfect, but it's gorgeous, and you feel like you are accepted here in a way that you have never been by any other group of people.  
    You are rudely disturbed from your reverie by Caramel squeaking your name. Her spin has landed on you. You sigh dramatically and pretend to think a moment.  
    "Dare." You give her a challenging look, which she returns.  
    "I dare you to... kiss Monster Kid!"  
    M.K yelps and jumps off their chair, getting ready to run for their life. You crouch, readying to chase them, and jump forward making a 'roar' sound, but you only make a half-hearted attempt to catch them, letting them escape your grasp. They squeal and begin running rings around you, while Mel cheers you on. M.K trips, and you yell;  
    "Get them!"  
    Frisk takes the opportunity to pounce on M.K, tickling them into submission while Mel bounces around.  
    "Go on, _______, while they're trapped!" Mel squeaks.  
    You lean over and give M.K a smooch, right on the end of their snout. They utter a cry of defeat and anguish, kicking their legs, and they roll away out of Frisk's grasp, so you turn on Frisk instead, giving them a big kiss on their forehead. They scramble away looking betrayed, and retreat to the sofa, half hiding behind Sans, whose eyes are closed with mirth. 

     Now it's your turn. You hope it'll land on Sans, so you can get him back for the earlier embarrassment, and miraculously, it does. You lock eyes with him, and his jaw goes slack.  
     "Oh no." He says. "Frisk, help..." They put their hands on his shoulders from behind him. He's not going anywhere.  
     You steeple your fingers together like a comic book villain and use your best malevolent voice. "Truth or Dare, skeleton man?"  
     "Uh. Dare?" He knows that both choices are terrible. He looks impressively flustered already. But you aren't really that mean.  
     "Bad choice! I dare you to..." Papyrus hasn't had a dare yet so you look at him too, "...carry Papyrus upstairs, like a princess."  
     Papyrus clears his throat.  
     "Sans is far too much of a lazybones to carry anything at all."  
     "Nobody forfeits my dares." You raise a brow at Sans, who looks like he has a plan. He turns to Frisk over his shoulder, who nods. His eye lights go dark, and there's that stunning blue flame again. He raises a hand and Papyrus objects explosively. He flails and tries to hold on to something as he is lifted from the floor.  
     "SANS! Wh--aaaah! What did I say about magic in the house?! Unhand me, immediately! BROTHER! I will have my revenge!" Papyrus manages to grasp the edge of the doorway for a few seconds before he is pulled away from it, screaming.  
     Sans floats his lanky sibling over to the stairwell and Papyrus ascends comically, feet first. Your eyes are blurry from laughter, and your stomach muscles feel like mush at this point. You fall to your front on the rug and wail and choke on your delight. Mel scolds Sans that that isn't how you carry a princess, to which he says that technically, a princess could be carried this way. Frisk is following Papyrus and waving. Papyrus howls with rage.  
     "Human, save me! You must stop this!"  
     At this point, the front door opens. A voice like rich velvet comes from the entrance hallway. "Papyrus, whatever are you doing upside down?"  
     "Oh thank goodness you are here, your Highness. Please remove my awful brother from the vicinity and end his tomfoolery!"  
     Queen Toriel leans around the doorframe, and puts her hand on her hip.  
     "N-now, Sans, put your poor brother down." She looks stern, but you hear the falter in her voice as she tries to be serious.  
     "Oh, hi Tori. Nah. I'm good." You don't think he looks good - actually, he looks very tired now; little bubbles of blue magic dotting his forehead like sweat - from the effort of maintaining his magic, you suppose. "I brought pie." She says this as if it is a deal breaker. Sans relents and lowers his hand to the ground gently before closing his eyes.  
     "You know me too well." He sighs.  
     "Of course I do, sweetheart."  
     You pick up on his blush when she says that. _Naww_. Perhaps Sans wishes they were more than friends?  

     Toriel has everyone sit down while she dishes up the pie. Sans has fallen asleep on the floor within minutes, with his head lolling back on the seat of the sofa, and Frisk sits behind him, fiddling with his hood.  
     You really don't feel like interacting with Toriel, and you wonder if maybe you should leave now, to save yourself the awkwardness. But you can smell the pie, and you can understand already how she managed to convince Sans with the promise of it. You can't help yourself but stay. But you really would prefer if Sans hadn't fallen asleep, his backup would be very helpful.  
     You wait until Toriel has brought the pie in for everyone, and take your piece to retreat into the kitchen. Maybe you can just stay here until she leaves. You rest your back against the counter and breathe to relieve your anxiety a bit. The pie is as you suspected, the condensed, pastry-cradled, heartbreakingly perfect taste of home. Not a particular place, it just tastes like all the things from a childhood you never really had. If you had ever had a grandmother, her pie would have been like this. It fills your senses.  
     "So, how do you like the pie, _______?" Her syrupy voice fills you with dread for the coming awkward conversation. You look up to see her motherly demeanour, a gentle smile, and maybe a kinder look in her eyes than you had experienced before.  
     "It's. The most wonderful pie I've ever had. Thank you. Your majesty. Very much. It's. Just. Lovely." Wow, you are bad at talking to real adults.  
     "I am glad, though, there's no need for formalities between us. So, how goes your work at Grillby's?" You aren't sure how she knows about that. Sans must have told her.  
     "It's wonderful. Monsters are very accepting and friendly, compared to humans." Now that you aren't entirely terrified, you have time to truly take in Toriel's beauty. Of course she's the queen. No other creature in the universe is this elegant. You can appreciate why Sans would have a crush on her. You think if you weren't so intimidated by her, you probably would too. But you aren't afraid of her now. It is clear that she is just a concerned mother.  
     "I would hope my people are treating you fairly. Sans tells me you are fitting in rather well amongst us." Her lullaby tone is helping you feel like it's alright to talk normally, but there is some kind of edge to her words there that you can't place.  
     "Honestly? It's a lot easier than fitting in with humans. Humans are quick to judge and cruel. Mostly. There are some that are kind, but all the monsters I've met so far are much more generous and caring than the average human."  
     "I wish I could say that I disagree with you, but you are right. Humans aren't the best neighbours." You feel like despite the sorrow in her voice, that was somehow aimed at you. You don't want her to hate you, though.  
     "If it was my choice? I would love to have exclusively monster neighbours." You say, honestly. Toriel seems to come to some kind of realisation then. You see her gorgeous eyes soften in something that could be pity. Or maybe it's agreement?  
     "Perhaps..." She begins, but she looks lost in thought. She clears her throat. "It was lovely to meet you on amicable terms, my dear, but it is dusk and I must take the children home. I hope you enjoyed your party." You nod, watch her leave, and then something dawns on you. It wasn't _your_ party. It was Frisk's. What a strange thing to say. Was she trying to make you feel guilty?  

~✿~

     After you say your goodbyes to the children, you head back into the living room, over to the window to watch them follow Toriel down the road like little ducklings. Frisk is hanging back to talk with Sans about something. You can't hear anything, but Frisk looks very solemn, and Sans seems unusually tense, holding one hand out towards them before letting it drop to his side and clenching his fist. Frisk listens intently to whatever he's saying and shakes their head, before signing their response, which you can see from here.  
     *It's alright. I mean it.*  
     They lean to hold his hand, which makes his shoulders go slack. He says something else and looks at the floor. You wish you could lip read, but even if you could, his skeletal jaw would make it difficult to discern the words. Frisk replies, looking down too.  
     *I know. But it doesn't matter.* They shift so that they can make eye contact with him again, peering up at him.  
     *Thank you for today, Sans.* They bob, smiling, trying to cheer him up. *Did you remember the...* They don't sign the whole sentence, but wait expectantly, checking to see whether he remembers what they are talking about. He turns to look at the house, and looks back, managing a small smile and a nod.  
     *Good. I don't think they even remember. But it's important, ok? Someone has to remember.* They fiddle with their fingers. *We have to remember the important things, don't we?*  
     Sans' posture slackens, and he looks thoroughly dispirited. Frisk hesitantly reaches to wrap their arms around him as much as they can. Sans rests his head on top of theirs, and strokes their hair in a way more tender than you could ever imagine him being. It doesn't give you any feelings of jealousy or concern to see that he is so close with your child. You trust him. The only feeling it gives you is a protective warmth for both of them. He speaks one more time and reluctantly pulls away. Frisk smiles, says goodbye and thank you again, and turns to leave. As they jog to catch up with the others, they turn to say one last thing.  
     *This is the right one. I promise.* _Huh? What could they mean by that?_  
     Sans watches them leave and turns towards the house. As he turns away from them, his false smile drops. He looks awful. Haunted.  
     You have no idea what that conversation was about, but you are beginning to understand that Frisk and Sans share some kind of secret, some history from the Underground that goes an awful lot deeper than just having adventures together.

     Before Sans returns, you make a lightning fast decision. This situation requires some proper emotional recovery material. You locate Papyrus in the kitchen.  
     "Hey, Paps. Want to watch anime with me?"  
     His eyes light up. "Absolutely, human! I would love to watch whatever you desire."  
     You enact security procedures to ensure Sans is roped in too.  
     "I want Sans to watch with us, ok? Even if he falls asleep as soon as we start watching, it is imperative that he joins us." Papyrus is so honest and naive that it's easy to just tell him what you want without having to worry about him questioning it or reading it wrong.  
     You hijack the TV and locate your favourite ridiculous rom-com anime, complete with demons and adorable sidekicks. It will be perfect. You gather all available comfort from around the room and pile it on the sofa, creating one of your trademark Responsibility Avoidance Shelters. It's only missing one thing. You ask Papyrus if he has a duvet he can bring for the three of you. He heads off upstairs, on a quest to locate the softest possible duvet. As an afterthought, you grab a bottle of ketchup.  
     Sans comes in and goes to sneak upstairs, but Papyrus has returned from his quest by then, he has his orders, and he is unstoppable. He stands upon the top step, duvet bundled in his arms, and proclaims;  
     "Brother, my new human friend and I are watching anime! You are also watching."  
     Sans sighs. "Sorry, bro. Not right now, okay? I need to sleep."  
     "Then you can sleep downstairs, lazybones! But you will join us. We require your attendance and there are no excuses! I will not move from this spot until you are sat on that couch!"  
     Sans rubs his face. You feel pretty bad for cornering him with his own brother, but you know that if you were feeling as awful as he is, it would make it worse to be alone. He might not be asking for help, but he clearly needs it. You haven't ever felt your heart ache with empathy for someone quite as much as it does now. You call his name softly. He gives another heavy sigh as he looks over at you dejectedly, but doesn't seem to have the energy to resist. He says nothing, just plodding over to take a seat in a corner of the nest. You grab the controller and take the middle section of the sofa, patting the other side for Papyrus. He hands you the duvet and takes his seat. You pass Sans his beverage and try to catch his eye. He's not responsive at all.  
     You stand to shake the duvet out lengthways and drape it over the whole sofa. You tuck it in around Papyrus, and then take your seat, and lean across Sans delicately to tuck the other end behind him, making sure not to invade his space too much. He needs to be as comfortable as possible right now. He's radiating awkward discomfort and trying to look like he is hating being here, but he has no choice but to accept his predicament. All three of you are trapped now.

     Papyrus loves the anime, especially the squeakily energetic familiars of the main character, and the flamboyant, melodramatic rival. He comments loudly throughout, but you don't mind at all. You know it all off by heart anyway. Sans doesn't watch at all as far as you can tell, but he's here with you two, and that's all that's important. He avoids coming into contact with you, in a way that is painfully obvious. You admit to yourself after about an hour that you are just a little disappointed that he's still keeping this up.  
     You watch for hours. Eventually, Sans' posture loses all its previous tension and he is snoring quietly beside you, empty ketchup bottle gripped loosely in his hand. His head is tipped to rest lightly against your shoulder. Papyrus is in danger of dosing off too. Through the last hour or so, you've been filling up with agitated energy at the thought of having to leave. At the end of the episode, you groan and stretch, reluctant to move. You don't want to go home to your cold, empty house after the company you've had today. Being in your own house is starting to make you feel weirdly unwelcome. You stand on the seat to extricate yourself from the blanket, accidentally causing Sans to start awake. He looks up at you blearily.  
     "Goin' home?" His voice is hoarse, gravelly from sleep. The sound of it makes your heart jump.  
     "Yeah." You grimace, looking from one skeleton to the other. "It's probably time I left you two be, I've caused enough trouble for one day." You try to look playful. It doesn't work.  
     "Sans," Papyrus yawns, "can the new human stay?" You feel a pang of gratitude for the younger brother. Sometimes you wonder if he is more perceptive than he appears.  
     "Do you want to stay, _______?" Sans asks. When he's too tired to be his usual teasing self, he's actually quite thoughtful.  
     "Uh. I would really like to... If. If that's okay?" You haven't ever had a sleepover, not that you can remember. It wasn't really an option in foster care. You frown. "I don't have any sleeping clothes though."  
     "We can find you somethin'." Sans reassures you.

    You end up being given a pair of Sans' three-quarter length shorts to replace your jeans, since nothing Papyrus owns would fit anyone under six foot tall. You guess you'll just have to make do with continuing to wear your skeleton shirt. You return from changing to find that Papyrus has removed the cushions from the armchair and dismantled some of the sofa nest to create himself a bed on the floor, and is already settled in and watching the next episode of the anime. Sans looks up at you as you enter the room and then his eyes widen in sudden recognition.  
     "Oh shit, I forgot." He grumbles and pulls himself up from the chair. He heads off upstairs, quicker than usual, so that you don't have a chance to question him. He must not want to stay downstairs with you two. You are beginning to feel like a failure, and maybe there's some damage to your minuscule pride too, since you believed yourself to be decent at helping people. It had appeared to be a good plan. The company of both brothers makes for a very good dynamic, and you had hoped that Sans would feel better staying with the two of you. You are distracted by concern, and when you have spent almost a whole episode of the anime in your thoughts, you decide to make one more attempt at convincing him, and pad upstairs.  
     You intercept Sans on the landing, coming out of his room for something. He starts when he sees you, and stutters something that you don't catch, lingering halfway inside the doorway.  
     "Sans. Come back downstairs? I don't... I'd like you to stay with us. It's alright if you really don't want to, but..." You don't want to sound like you're too worried about him, though you are.  
     "Oh. Uh. I was gonna-... I just. I had to get-..." He looks flustered, and steps fully from the doorway, revealing a crumpled package in his hand. He goes to push it into your hands, not meeting your eyes. He scratches the back of his skull as you take the incredibly badly wrapped bundle from him. It's squashy beneath the creased, shimmery blue wrapping paper. You look at him, confused, and he clears his throat.  
     "Frisk said it was your birthday. They couldn't get you anythin' themselves so. I helped." He gives his signature single-syllable laugh and shrugs. "Bear in mind that I have no idea what I'm doin' when it comes to presents for anyone but Paps... I may have asked Muffet for help. S-so. Happy birthday?" He seems so uncharacteristically unsure of himself that you have to stop yourself from giggling.  
     You study him. In the whirlwind of recent events, you had completely forgotten. Your birthday is tomorrow. Or maybe today, depending on what time it is? When Toriel had said it was your party, she wasn't trying to make you feel guilty. It _was_ your party. You turn the package around in your hands and open it slowly. Birthday gifts are something you rarely have, since there's nobody you're close enough to to share your birthday with. Or so you thought.  
     The gift is a long t-shirt, with a print of a nebula extending over the fabric in rich purple and indigo. The colour is so right for you. You find your eyes blurry as you thank him.  
     "It's perfect, Sans. Did Frisk tell you my favourite colour is purple?"  
     He flushes and your mind registers again how odd that is. _How is that possible? Oh who cares, it's adorable.  
     _ "Nah, I-... I guessed." He says. He looks through you.  
     "Well, you guessed right. Thank you so much. I adore it." You hold out your arms, giving him the option of a hug. You know he's delicate right now, though you have no idea why. You can feel the tension in him, vibrating like a high, drawn-out piano note in the confined space of the hallway. He looks like he doesn't want to accept your offer, but he doesn't turn you down. When you wrap your arms around his back, he breathes deeply into your shoulder, and his posture relaxes. Your hyperactive senses take note. Beneath his jacket, you feel his ribs rise and fall. He feels surprisingly small, fragile even, compared to the front he puts up. His skull is smooth and warm against your cheek and his breathing slows as you hold him tight. Maybe it isn't that he dislikes physical contact? Perhaps he's shy? That doesn't really seem to fit him, either. You can't understand him, so you won't question it.  
     You resolve to always offer him your hand, and let him decide. You let the embrace last as long as he needs it. He doesn't hold on for more than a minute, but you know from the subtle clutch of his fingers on your shirt that he would like to. You don't force him. Though it makes your whole abdomen ache, whatever reason he has to remain distant is his choice, and you are familiar with the feeling of having to keep things to yourself. You won't ask. Sometimes, that's not what people need.   

     You change into your new shirt, which is baggy enough to be comfortable, but still flattering. By the time you come downstairs, Sans is curled up on the sofa. He really doesn't take up that much space. Papyrus is totally unconscious, sprawled ridiculously over the cushions. You switch off the light and TV, and take the other side of the sofa. As you're carefully settling in, Sans twitches in his sleep and wakes himself up. His white pupils glow in the dark and highlight the edge of his eye sockets. You reach out your hand to let him know you're there, so you don't make him jump. He sighs. For minutes, you just sit there in silence together. It's wonderful to have someone nearby while you rest. You'd forgotten that feeling, of knowing you aren't alone.  
     "I'm glad I met you." His voice is almost inaudible, like he hopes you won't hear. This is yet another surprising display of sensitivity from him.  
     "I'm glad I forced you into being my friend." You tease.  
     "Trust me. Nobody can force me to do anything unless I want to."  
     Humming, you close your eyes and listen to his slow, steady breathing, matching yours to it.  
     You turn to him.  
     "Sans?" You ask. He makes a questioning noise. "...thank you for today. I really appreciate having you around. You've let me into your family, even though I don't belong here, even though... What you've done for us... it's..." There are still so many things you want to say, things that are too complicated to be explained by any words your drowsy mind can think of. Sans opens his eyes again, the lights falling on you.  
     "Come here." He says resolutely. Your stomach clenches with something between surprise and anticipation. You sit up and shuffle closer. _What's this about?_ He has been acting unusually all day. He embraces you tightly, and you can't stop your breath from catching.  
     "Relax, and listen to me." This is a change from his earlier tone. His voice is strong and certain and reverberates through you, making you feel calm. You allow yourself to lean against him lightly and listen, trying to slow your pulse, but he doesn't say anything more. You are about to respond when your thoughts are interrupted by... something. A sensation. An influx of emotion from an outside source. You focus on it.  
      _"Thank you, _______."  
     _ A shiver runs through the core of your being. It seems like he's talking, but you realise it's not words at all. Not really telepathy, either. You are interpreting emotion, transmitted straight through your sternum where yours presses against his. He doesn't need to use words; you understand him anyway. It feels like a charge running through your whole existence, warm and blue and alive.  
     You find yourself tearing up in response to the sincerity and purity of the feeling he is transmitting. Without words to muffle and distort the thoughts, it's a little overwhelming. Behind the focussed sensation of what he's telling you, you can feel all the nuances of his feelings towards you. He cares a lot more than he would ever say, and he wants you safe, for Frisk, and for himself, and he's proud, so proud of his family and he's afraid for everyone too, and there are so many things that hurt that you don't understand, not yet. Your heart aches, and you are afraid for him. You try to return something, to let him know you hear him.  
      _"Don't ever leave, ok? You are very important to me."_ You feel like that's the one thing you want him to know, and his soul responds in flashes that feel like ecstatic blue lights thrumming through you, before the signals abruptly stop like they were cut off. He sighs and the connection dissolves - you can't maintain it on your own yet. The absence fills you with a pang of loss. Sans looks pained before he affixes his smile again. He doesn't meet your eyes properly.  
     "See. I told you you could do it." His voice is monotone. He gets up from the sofa and shuffles away, towards the stairs. Over his shoulder, he wishes you a solemn goodnight.  
     You feel like you missed something. You don't know if you helped or not. Did you overstep your boundaries? Was that the wrong thing to say? You fall heavily onto your side and groan. This is really becoming frustrating - it shouldn't be this difficult to understand what's going through your friend's mind. Your thought process is fuzzy and you can't maintain your string of thought. Eventually, sleep claims you.

     He watches over you and Papyrus as you slumber. He sits at the foot of the sofa and just contemplates. This is as close as he can ever be to you, or his sons. The Tall Man sighs.  
      _"Keep them safe for me."_ He tries to tell you. But the connection is broken and wrong, just like him, and he isn't sure if he reaches you with his sentiment. He doesn't think he really needs to tell you, though. You already understand.  
     He lays an incomplete, slender skeletal hand over yours. This is okay. He'll never be a part of his own family again, cursed by his own rash mistakes, but this is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord I am enjoying this. I need more spooky skeleton dad in my life though. Poor dude hardly ever gets to talk to anyone. What do you think, guys?
> 
> The anime they watched is Kamisama Hajimemashita and it is truly beautiful and hilarious.
> 
> My sister has a brilliant original AU Undertale fic that is terrifying and painful and dark, so if you're looking for a change from the regular angst and fluff, here it is: [Folktale AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8341417/chapters/19108777) . We would appreciate it if you checked it out <3


	19. Moogle Advisory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just to keep you all updated...

Hi, you lot!

     I know I've been missing from this for ages with no warning, so here's a lil update.

     I got a new job, which fell into my lap like a gift from the Void Gods, and has kept me busy making, fixing, and re-fixing costumes and running around after a bunch of idiot stage actors, wielding flaming batons whilst screaming at the top of their lungs like eight-year-olds. It is a very entertaining, though tiring job.  
     While that does mean things sort of... stopped, there is a very real chance this thing is coming back in future. I have the entire thing planned out and it seems a waste to leave it there in a notebook, unfinished and alone.

     In the meantime, I started on something that's easier both emotionally and inspirationally, and less time-consuming to write while I'm commuting. This fic requires quite a lot of physical notes and organisation to keep track of because of (mostly Gaster's) shenanigans, but I don't like going without writing something; gotta feed that creativity demon.

     So, for now, I have an Underfell fanfiction, fresh off the press, waiting for you over [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428879/chapters/30775431).

    Hmu over [here](http://crescentmoogle.tumblr.com/)also :D

This has been a Moogle Advisory~

Love you all!

C.M


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